Stories from the classics

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THE CHILDREN'S HOUR

IN TEN VOLUMES
ILLUSTRATED

VOLUME III

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The
hildretv
Hour

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•••-

FROM TOE

CLASSICS

o^Sefected & Arranged by

XV ' ' O -/

Houghtor
Miffin &C
Company

Between the dark and the daylight, when the night is beginning to lower,
in the days occupations, that is known as the Children's Hour.

a pause

COPYRIGHT 1907 BY HQ'JGHTON, MIFFLIN ANJ> C8MPANY

.

ALL Rid-To' RESERVED , . .* •

• * •

THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY

NOTE

ALL rights in stories in this volume are reserved by the
holders of the copyrights. The publishers and others
named in the subjoined list are the proprietors, either in their
own right or as agents for the authors, of the stories taken
from the works enumerated, of v/hich the ownership is hereby

144 *

acknowledged. The' editor lekes this opportunity to thank
both authors ?>j)d" publishers fcv tr«c ready generosity with
which they have allowed her to include these stories in "The
Children's Hour."

"The Wonder-Book," and "Tangle^Wl Tales," by Na-
thaniel Hsivtborne; published by Hongbton, Mifflin & Com-
pany.

"Old Gfefck. Folk Stories," by Josephine Preston Pea-
body; published by Houghton, Mifflin '& Company.

"The Odyssey of Homer/' English prose version by
George Herbert Palmer;' published by Houghton, Mifflin &
Company.

CONTENTS

TO THE CHILDREN

STORIES FROM HERODOTUS
LADRONIUS, THE PRINCE OF THIEVES

Retold by G. H. Boden and W. Harrington d1 Almeida 3
ARION AND THE DOLPHIN

Eetold by G. H. Boden and W. Barrington d' Almeida 18

STORIES FROM LIVY

ROMULUS, FOUNDER OF ROME ..... Alfred J. Church 31

How HORATIUS HELD THE BRIDGE . . . Alfred J. Church 43

How CINCINNATUS SAVED ROME .... Alfred J. Church 46

THE STORY OF VIRGINIA ....... Alfred J. Church 52

THE SACRIFICE OF MARCUS CURTIUS . . Alfred J. Church 63

STORIES FROM OVID

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHEB .... Nathaniel Hawthorne 67

THE GOLDEN TOUCH ...... Nathaniel Hawthorne 92

THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS .... Nathaniel Hawthorne 114

OLD GREEK FOLK-STORIES

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE . . . Josephine Preston Peabody 157

ICARUS AND D^DALUS .... Josephine Preston Peabody 161

PHAETHON ........ Josephine Preston Peabody 164

NIOBE ...... .... Josephine Preston Peabody 169

PYRAMUS AND THISBE .... Josephine Preston Peabody 172

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

THE APPLE OF DISCORD . . . Josephine Preston Peabody 179
THE QUARREL BETWEEN AGAMEMNON AND ACHILLES

Alfred J. Church 188

• •

Vll

ILLUSTRATIONS

"IT 18 STBANGE THAT THEY LET THAT DOG LIE THERE"

(p. 356) L. F. Schutzenberger Colored Frontispiece

"I AM AFRAID THERE WILL NOT BE HALF ENOUGH SUPPER"

Walter Crane 78
THEY LEAPED OUT OF THE BOTTOMLESS HOLE

George Wharton Edwards 118

TO HIM AT LAST THE THREE GODDESSES INTRUSTED THE

JUDGMENT AND THE GOLDEN APPLE . . Giulio Romano 180
FIERCE WAS THE FIGHT ABOUT THE BODY OF PATROCLUS

Giulio Romano 226

A GREAT IMAGE OF A HORSE Franz Cleyn 270

THE CYCLOPS IN HIS WRATH BRAKE OFF THE TOP OF A GREAT

HILL L. F. Schutzenberger 286

" DEAR SON, HAVE YOU COME HOME AT LAST ? " G. Truffault 344

THE FLIGHT FROM TROY Franz Cleyn 400

THE VICTORY OF EURYALUS Franz Cleyn 438

TO THE CHILDREN

greater part of this book is made up of stories
from the poems of Homer and Virgil. Homer is
thought to have lived in Greece about three thousand

o

years ago, and yet his poems never seem old-fashioned
and people do not tire of reading them. Boys and girls
almost always like them, because they are so full of
stories. If you want to read about giants or mermaids
or shipwrecks or athletic contests or enchanters or
furious battles or the capture of cities or voyages to
strange countries, all you have to do is to open the
Iliad and the Odyssey, and you will find stories on
all of these subjects. Homer can describe a foot-race
or the throwing of a discus so that you hold your breath
to see who will win; and he can picture a battle so
vividly that you almost try to dodge the arrows and
spears. He can make the tears come into your eyes by
telling you of the grief of the warrior's wife when he
leaves her and their baby son to go to battle; and he
can almost make you shout, "Hurrah for the brave
champion!" when he tells you what wonderful deeds
of prowess have been done. He can describe a shield
so minutely that you could make one like it; and he
can paint a scene of feasting so perfectly that you feel
as if you had been in the very room.

How is it that Homer makes his stories seem so real ?
There are several reasons, but one of the strongest is

• • •

Xlll

TO THE CHILDREN

because he tells the little things that writers often forget
to put in. When he describes the welcome given to two
strangers at the house of the lost Ulysses, by Telema-
chus, son of the wanderer, he begins, "When they were
come within the lofty hall, he carried the spear to a tall
pillar and set it in a well-worn rack." That one word,
"well-worn," gives us the feeling that Homer is not
making up a story, but that he has really seen the rack
and noticed how it looked. The same sentence shows
why it is that people do not tire of reading Homer. It
ends, "where also stood many a spear of hardy Ulysses."
This reminds the reader that in spite of the hero's long
years of absence, no one has been allowed to remove
his weapons from their old place. From this one phrase,
then, we can realize how much his wife and son love
him, and how they have mourned for him. Telemachus
welcomes the strangers, but we can feel how eager he
is for them to be made comfortable as soon as possible
so he can talk of his father and learn whether they have
chanced to meet him in their wanderings. Homer's
poems are full of such sentences as these; and, no
matter how many times one reads them, some thought,
unnoticed before, is ever coming to light. That is why
they are always fresh and new and interesting.

There is a tradition that Homer was blind, and that
he wandered about from one place to another, sing-
ing or reciting his poems; but this is only tradition,
and there is little hope that we shall ever be able to find
out whether it is true or not.

Homer's great poem, the Iliad, is the account of the
Trojan War. His Odyssey relates the adventures of

xiv

TO THE CHILDREN

the hero Ulysses, or Odysseus, as the Greeks called
him, in many years of wandering at the close of the
war before his enemies among the Gods would permit
him to return to his home. There were Trojan heroes,
however, as well as Greek, and ^Eneas was one of
them. Virgil, the Latin poet, has told in the JEneid
the story of his troubles and adventures. ^Eneas, too,
was driven over the waters, for the Gods had told him
it was the will of Jupiter, or Zeus, as it is in Greek, for
him to seek Italy and there found a city. Part of his
journey is the same as that of Ulysses. He, too, stops
at the country of the one-eyed giants and has to row as
fast as he can to escape the rocks that they throw at
his vessel. He, too, hears the thunders of Mount ^Etna
and sees the flashing of the fires of the volcano. His
sailors point to it in fear and whisper to one another,
" That is the giant Enceladus. He rebelled against the
Gods and they piled the mountain on top of him. The
fires of Jupiter burn him, and he breathes out glowing
flames. When he tosses from one side to the other,
the whole island of Sicily is shaken with a mighty
earthquake."

Virgil was no homeless singer; he was one of the
great literary men of Rome, and he read his poems
aloud to the Emperor Augustus. He had a handsome
villa and a troop of friends. He enjoyed everything
that was beautiful and seemed as happy when a friend
had written a good poem as if he had composed it him-
self. He was never satisfied with his verse till he had
made every line as perfect as possible. When he was
ill and knew that he could not recover, he made a will,

xv

TO THE CHILDREN

the fire with dry leaves and bits of bark; that one leg
of the table was too short and had to be propped up
with a piece of tile. He tells us that the kindhearted
couple tried to catch their one goose so as to cook it
for the supper of their guests; but that they were so
old, and the goose so nimble of wing, that he escaped
them and flew to the Gods for refuge. We are so accus-
tomed to think of Latin as a grave, dignified language
that almost every line of Ovid's "Metamorphoses" is
a pleasant surprise. The stories that he tells, "The
Miraculous Pitcher" (page 67), "The Golden Touch"
(page 92), "The Pomegranate Seeds" (page 114),
and others, retold by Hawthorne, are favorites among
the boys and girls of to-day, and they must have been
liked just as well by the Roman children. In Rome
the children read the great poets in school, and I fancy
that they were always glad when the hour came to read
the ' ' Meta morphoses . ' '

STORIES FROM HERODOTUS

LADRONIUS, THE PRINCE OF

THIEVES

•

Retold by G. If. Bod'en' tind W. Harrington

i « t »

d? Almeida

• •

MANY 'hundreds of years ago, not long after the
Greeks icturned from the famous ciege of Troy,
there lived a king of Egypt, whose nar!?e was Rhamp-
sinitus. So ^r'eat a king was he, that "he kept a small
army constantly employed in supplying the royal house-
hold with foocl aid another small- army was required
to keep the gardens -bi the palace 'in order. And had
any one been bold enough to doubt the greatness of the
king, he need only have looked at his magnificent dress
to set all doubts at rest forever. Upon the neck of the
king was a heavy necklace, glittering with priceless
jewels, and on his arms were massive bracelets of pure
gold. A golden serpent, the symbol of royalty, gleamed
from his forehead, and his golden breastplate showed
the sacred beetle worked in precious stones, to pro-
tect him from evil spirits. Whenever he appeared in
the streets of his capital, he was borne in the royal chair
on the shoulders of eight of his courtiers, while on each
side walked a great noble carrying a fan, shaped like a
palm leaf, with a long, straight stem. In front marched
the bodyguard of Sardinians, men with fair skins and
blue eyes, who looked very much out of place among the

3

STORIES FROM HERODOTUS

swarthy Egyptians; and last of all came the grim, black
guards from Ethiopia, with their sabres flashing in the
sun. And all the people fell on their faces and kissed
the dust before their royal master. Moreover, King
Rhampsinitus erected several enormous statues of
himself, as well as many fine palaces and a beautiful
temple, bearing inscriptioDs which related all his great
and glorious deeds, so ihat the people who lived after
him might know how great a king he had been.

But, in spite of all his greatness, there was one thing
that prevented King Rhampsinitus from being a happy
man. He had so many treasures -- masses of silver,
nuggets of gold, and bags of gold-dust, jewelry, precious
stones, and carvings in ivory - - that he lived in con-
stant fear of being robbed. He had ail his treasures
packed in large jars and strong chests, which were
securely fastened, sealed up, and stowed away in a strong
room of the palace; but even then he did not feel com-
fortable, for might not the palace be broken into by a
clever thief and part of his treasure stolen, while he
slept ? Besides, there was so much treasure packed
away already, that it was difficult to find a safe place
for any more. His anxiety made the king so unhappy,
and caused him so many sleepless nights, that he deter-
mined at last to build a large chamber of stone, with
walls too thick for any thief to break through. He sent
for his chief architect, who collected a great multitude
of workmen and set to work building the chamber with-
out delay. Whole villages wrere compelled to join in the
work; even the old men and children were employed in
carrying away rubbish, bringing water and clay, and

4

LADRONIUS, THE PRINCE OF THIEVES

doing other work that was not too hard for them. The
stronger and more skillful workmen hewed great blocks
of granite, which were dragged to the place on wooden
sledges; and, as they had no cranes to lift the stones into
their places on the walls, they were obliged to build
mounds of sand and rough bricks, and roll up each
stone gradually with wooden levers, until they got it
into its proper place. It was terribly hard work, but
there were so many workmen, and the foremen used
their whips so unmercifully, that the walls rose very
rapidly.

Now the architect was a cunning man, and guessed
what the chamber was intended to hold. He therefore
fitted one stone in such a way that it would slide down
and leave a hole just large enough for a man to crawl
through; and yet, when you looked at the wall, there
was no sign at all by which the secret could be dis-
covered. Nor did the architect think it necessary to
mention the secret opening to his majesty, when he
showed the chamber to him and told him that it was
as strong as he could make it.

Rhampsinitus lost no time in moving his treasures
into the new treasure-chamber. The key he kept with
him night and day, so that at last he could sleep peace-
fully, knowing that any one who wished to pass the
solid, brass-bound door, must first prevail upon him to
unlock it.

For some time all went well. The kin^ went to the

O

treasury every morning, and found everything in its

place. Evidently he had been too clever for the thieves.

In the mean time the architect was lying ill in bed,

STORIES FROM HERODOTUS

and day by day he grew weaker and weaker; until at
length he knew that his end was approaching, and,
calling his two sons to his bedside, he told them of the
secret way into the treasure-chamber.

"I have little of my own to leave you, my sons," he
said, "and I have but little influence at court; but by
the aid of this secret, which I devised for your sake,
you may become rich men, and hold the office of
king's treasurers for life."

The young men were delighted at his words, and so
impatient were they to enjoy their good fortune, that on
the very night of their father's funeral they stole away
quietly to the place where the treasure-house stood.
They found the sliding stone exactly as their father
had described it. The younger and slimmer of the two
brothers crawled through the opening and found him-
self in a dark chamber, surrounded by heavy chests
and jars with sealed covers. Breaking open one of the
latter, he put in his hand and drew out a handful of
gold, which sparkled and twinkled at him even in the
faint light which came through the hole in the wall.
Handful after handful he drew out and passed to his
brother, at the same time filling the bags he had brought
with him. until both had as much as they could con-
veniently carry. Then they replaced the stone, and
returned to lay the treasure before their mother; for
in those days stealing was considered rather a clever
trick, and even the thief's mother did not scold him,
so long as he was not so clumsy as to be caught.

Imagine the consternation of King Rhampsinitus
when he visited the chamber the following morning!

6

LADRONIUS, THE PRINCE OF THIEVES

Everything seemed as secure as ever, and yet, when
he opened the door, there lay one of the great jars
turned over and empty, while the lid of one of the chests
was broken open and part of the contents scattered on
the floor. He examined every nook and cranny of the
chamber from floor to ceiling, and there was no sign
of any one's having forced an entrance. The fasten-
ings of the door were firm, and the lock was one which
it was perfectly impossible to pick. For greater se-
curity, however, Rhampsinitus sent at once for a lock-
smith, and commanded him to fit the door with a second
lock, the key of which he kept with the other.

Notwithstanding this precaution, the treasure-cham-
ber was robbed again on the next night, and this time
the thieves had broken open a great many of the chests,
and carried away some of the most valuable jewels.
On the following night a sentinel was posted, and still
the treasury was robbed. The sentinel vowed that he
had stood with his back to the door all night, and there
is little doubt that he spoke the truth, though the poor
fellow was accused of sleeping at his post, and punished
for his negligence.

Then the king took counsel of the fan-bearer on the
right hand, who was also prime minister. He made a long
speech, beginning with his regret that his majesty had
not thought fit to 'consult him earlier, and concluding
with a learned discourse on the habits of rats.

''This is all very interesting," said Rhampsinitus,
"but I do not see that it helps very much to protect
my treasure."

"I crave your majesty's pardon," the prime minister

7

STORIES FROM HERODOTUS

answered. "I was about to observe that the best way
to catch a rat is first to study the habits and tastes of the
rat, and next to apply the knowledge so gained in set-
ting a trap."

From which one may see that the prime minister was
a very learned man, and could not be expected to come
to the point all at once. The king thanked him for his
valuable advice, and procured two or three powerful
man-traps, which he placed within his treasure-chamber.

Night came on, and the two thieves set to work as
before, but no sooner had the younger brother disap-
peared through the hole in the wall than he began to
utter loud cries of agony.

:' Peace, brother! You will rouse the guard," said the
elder. 'What can have befallen you?"

The other controlled himself, and said with a groan,
"Ladronius, we are ruined. I am held fast in a trap,
and I think my leg is broken. O Horus, .Lord of Life,
deliver me!"

With some difficulty Ladronius crawled through
the opening to aid his brother, for, though a thief, he
was no coward.

"Go back, Ladronius, go back!" cried his brother.
'Leave me to my fate! I think I hear the cries of the
guard. No, brother, waste no more time!" he en-
treated, as Ladronius tugged in vain at the cruel teeth
of the trap. "One thing remains to be done. Cut off
my head, and take it away with you, that I may not be
recognized and so we both perish ! I hear the- footsteps
of men approaching. Do not rob our mother of both
her sons!"

8

LADRONIUS, THE PRINCE OF THIEVES

And Ladronius, seeing that there was nothing else
to be done, drew his sword, cut off his brother's head,
and escaped through the opening, not forgetting to re-
place the stone behind him. He was only just in time,
for scarcely had he gained the cover of a clump of trees,
when the soldiers of the guard came running to the
place and began to belabor the door. To their surprise
they found everything quiet and nothing displaced.
They examined the outside of the building thoroughly,
and then, supposing that they had been roused by a
false alarm, they returned to the palace.

In the morning, Rhampsinitus paid his daily visit
to the chamber, and discovered the headless body in
the trap. He was more puzzled than ever. He exam-
ined the fastenings of the door and the whole of the
chamber over and over again, and no hole nor crevice
could he find.

"Nevertheless," said he, "I have now bait for my
trap. What can I do better than set a thief to catch a
thief?"

So he ordered the body to be hung from the outer
wall of the chamber, and placed sentinels to guard it,
strictly charging them to bring before him any one who
showed pity or sorrow for the dead.

When the mother heard of her son's death and how
the body had been treated, she reproached Ladronius
bitterly for his cowardice, and implored him with
many tears to bring back the body for proper burial.
For the Egyptians thought that unless a man's body
were properly embalmed and buried whole, he could
have no life in the next world; so that it would be a

0

STORIES FROM HERODOTUS

terrible misfortune if the head and the body were
buried separately. Ladronius attempted to comfort
his mother, but did not dare to carry off his brother's
body so long as the sentinels were watching. In vain
his mother wept and entreated him, until at last her
grief was turned to anger, and she vowed that, if he did
not obey her, she would go to the king and tell him the
whole story. Then Ladronius, seeing her so deter-
mined, promised to do as she wished, and set his wits
to work to invent some means of carrying off the body
without being caught by the sentinels. At last he
thought of a plan, which seemed to have some chance
of success. He hired two donkeys, and having bought
some wineskins, which were used in the place of bottles,
he filled them with strong wine and placed them on
the donkeys' backs.

Thus equipped, and dressed up to look like an old
merchant, he set out for the place where his brother's
body was suspended. When he drew near to the senti-
nels, he secretly loosened some of the strings which
fastened the necks of the wineskins, and then whipping
the donkeys and letting them run on a little way in
front, he pursued them with loud cries.

"Oh, miserable wretch that I am!" he cried, beat-
ing his head and looking the very picture of despair.
"All my good wine wasted on the ground! What shall
I do ? Oh, what shall I do ? Stop, most ungrateful of
donkeys, children of Set, that devour my substance
and waste my wine as if it wTere water! May Tefnet
plague you with gadflies, and Renenutet poison the
thistles! Oh dear! oh dear! I am a ruined man."

10

LADRONIUS, THE PRINCE OF THIEVES

The soldiers, supposing it to be a genuine accident,
laughed loudly at the fellow's distress, and while some
chased and caught the donkeys, the others brought bowls
and pitchers and began to drink the wine, as it ran out
of the skins.

"Never mind, worthy sir!" they said to Ladronius.
"The wine is serving a very good purpose. Here is to
our future friendship and your excellency's very good
health!"

Ladronius pretended to fly into a great passion, and
called them thieves and monsters of iniquity for rob-
bing a poor man of his wine.

"Ay, laugh away!" he cried, "But a day of reckon-
ing will come for your wickedness. See how the law
treats robbers!" And he pointed to his brother's body
hanging on the wall.

" Now, by Anubis, the fellow speaks truth," said one of
the soldiers. "We are but sorry fellows to drink away a
poor man's living, and if this were to come to the ears of
the king, we should be in evil case for leaving our duty."

The others laughed good-humoredly, as they tied up
some of the skins, and did their best to put the mer-
chant into a good temper. Ladronius, after a little
more grumbling, appeared to be pacified, and, as a
sign of good-will, presented a wineskin to the soldier
who had first spoken in his favor.

"May you never want a young friend to speak for
you in your old age," said he, "and may you meet with
no worse companions than these; for though they seem
to be somewhat headstrong, yet I perceive that I spoke
hard words in my anger."

11

STORIES FROM HERODOTUS

The soldiers, who by this time had sat down on the
grass and were passing the wineskin from one to an-
other, declared that the merchant was a good-hearted old
fellow and invited him to come and drink their health.

"Nay, my masters," said Ladronius, pretending to
adjust the straps on the donkeys' backs. "I have far to
go, and I am but a little way on my journey."

But, as they pressed him, he consented to drink one
cup with them before he went. "Though in truth," he
added, "if I mistake not, the skin is emptied already.
I see that you would force me to part with another,
before I set out."

As he spoke, he produced another wineskin, and the
soldiers, who were growing merry, greeted him with
a shout of delight, and insisted on his sitting down with
them. Ladronius, still declaring that he could stay
only long enough to drink one cup with them, allowed
himself to be placed in the midst, where he presently
proved himself so good a companion and told so many
merry tales that the soldiers would not hear of his de-
parture. They drank more and more heavily, until at
length a third skin was opened, and one by one the
sentinels were overpowered by the strong wine, and all
lay asleep on the ground.

By this time it had grown dark, and Ladronius, who
had pretended to be as drunk as the rest, cautiously
raised his head, and finding that all the sentinels were
snoring, he took down his brother's body and carried
it off. But, before he went, he shaved the right side
of the head of each of the sentinels, to show his con-
tempt for the king's precautions.

12

LADRONIUS, THE PRINCE OF THIEVES

The king was furious when he discovered the fail-
ure of his plan and the insult offered to his guards, all
of whom were beheaded for their disobedience to his
orders. He was more determined than ever to catch
the thief, and after taking counsel once more with his
prime minister, he decided upon another plan. He
caused a proclamation to be made, in which he pro-
mised the hand of his daughter to the man whom she
should consider the cleverest and most wicked of all
men. He commanded the princess to sit on a throne
in the temple of Ra, the sun-god, and to speak to all
who came to pay their homage to her, asking them
what was the cleverest and most wicked deed they had
done. But secretly Rhampsinitus told her that, if any
one related the story of the robbing of the treasury,
she was to seize him by the hand, and hold him till
the guards came and secured him.

The moment Ladronius heard the proclamation,
he saw that it was another trick to catch him, but he
was so daring and so fond of adventure that he could
not resist the temptation to outdo the king in cunning
once more. He determined actually to put his head
in the lion's mouth - -in other words, to. go boldly to
the temple and talk to the princess. He took with him
under his cloak the strangest of presents, an arm cut
from a dead man's bodv.

«/

When he entered the temple, he beheld the princess
seated on her throne, looking very beautiful in her
royal robes, with her dark curls flowing over her shoul-
ders, and the golden vulture of Egypt spreading his wings
over her head. She looked a little pale and weary too,

13

STORIES FROM HERODOTUS

for she had talked with many scores of suitors, all of
whom had told her tales which were very much alike
and nothing at all to do with her father's treasure-
chamber. And when the princess looked up and saw
Ladronius standing there, with his bold, handsome
face, and resolute eyes, she had a suspicion that this
was the robber of the treasury. At the same time she
felt some pity for the young man, whom she was to be
the means of punishing for his bravery. However, she
could only obey her father, and motioning to Ladronius
to approach, she addressed him writh great courtesy,
saying, "You seem, sir, by your bearing, to be a man of
some strength and courage. Tell me now, what is the

O O

most wicked thing, and what the cleverest, you ever
did in your life?"

And Ladronius looked her straight in the face and
answered, "Most gracious princess, the most wicked
thing I ever did in my life wras to cut off my brother's
head in His Majesty's treasure-house, and the cleverest
was when I made the sentinels drunk and carried off
my brother's body."

Scarcelv were the words out of his mouth, when the

•/

princess jumped up and caught him, as she supposed,
by the arm, at the same time crying out for the guards,
who were concealed behind the throne. But, to her
dismay, the arm seemed to part company with the rest
of the body, and she was left with the cloak of Ladronius
and the arm of the dead man, while Ladronius himself
was out of the temple before she had recovered from
her surprise ; nor could the guards find any trace of him
outside.

14

LADRONIUS, THE PRINCE OF THIEVES

The princess went back to her father in fear and
trembling, and related how Ladronius had escaped
once more; but the king was so amazed at the daring
and skill of the young man, that he quite forgot to be
angry.

The picture of the princess holding the arm that had
no body attached to it, and gazing blankly after the
departing figure of Ladronius, so took his fancy, that
he lay back on his couch, and laughed till his sides
ached.

"Bast!" he cried at length. "If the youth is really
as clever as this, I would rather have him my friend
than my enemy. Such a man should be rewarded and
not punished for his genius. So he made you a present
of his cloak too, did he ?" And the king collapsed once
more.

"And what manner of youth is he?" he asked the
princess; the princess answered, with a blush, that he
looked like a brave young man.

"That I am sure he is," said the king. 'I have
learnt it to my cost. And he is not ill-looking?"

"No," said the princess; she would not describe
him as ill-looking.

"Ah! well," said the king dryly, :'we must see
whether we cannot find some means of securing his
friendship."

So King Rhampsinitus ordered another proclama-
tion to be made, promising that if the robber would
present himself to the king and confess how he had
broken into the treasury, the king would grant him a
free pardon and a great reward beside.

15

STORIES FROM HERODOTUS

Ladronius was not long in making up his mind.
He knew that kings were not always above treachery,
but he had survived so many dangers that he deter-
mined to risk this also. He arrayed himself, therefore,
in his best attire, and boldly presented himself to the
king, who was delighted with his courage and bade
him relate the whole story fearlessly. And when Rhamp-
sinitus heard of the secret way into his treasury, he
would not rest until he had seen the sliding stone and
moved it for himself. He laughed heartily when he
remembered how he had put another lock on the door,
and how he had posted a sentinel in the one place where
he could see nothing of the thieves. Then he returned
to the palace, and sent for the princess, his daughter.
Presently she entered with her train of maidens, and
Ladronius was so overcome by her fresh, girlish beauty,
that he could hardly find voice enough to reply to the
king's questions. The king rose and embraced his
daughter, and then, addressing Ladronius before the
assembled courtiers, he said, "Ladronius, the Egyptians
are the most cunning of all nations on the face of the
earth, and you have proved yourself more cunning
than all the Egyptians. And now, after robbing me
of so many treasures, you are about to rob me of the
best and most priceless of all."

So saying, he took his daughter by the hand, and
led her to Ladronius.

"Take her, my son!" he said. "A good and obedient
daughter should make a faithful and loving wife."

The princess stood with her eyes cast down, blush-
ing very prettily, and Ladronius looked very handsome

16

LADRONIUS, THE PRINCE OF THIEVES

as he knelt and kissed her hand. Then the trumpets
began to blare, the drums rattled, the cymbals clashed,
and the courtiers shouted, 'Long live our gracious
princess! Long live Rhampsinitus and his son-in-law
Ladronius!" The royal minstrel brought his harp
and sang a solemn chant, all about the beauty of the
princess and the bravery of Ladronius; and the maids
of honor performed a graceful dance to the music,
winding wreaths of lotus flowers about the bride and
bridegroom. As the music ceased, the venerable High
Priest of Ra, a tall old man with his head clean-shaven,
came forward to bless and anoint them, and to tell how
he had foreseen it all from the beginning.

So Ladronius and the beautiful princess were mar-
ried, and, though it is not in the story, there can be no
doubt that they lived very happily for the rest of their
lives.

ARION AND THE DOLPHIN

Retold by G. H. Boden and W. Harrington

d9 Almeida

IT happened once upon a time, in the olden days, that
a young man, Periander of Corinth, started from a
port in the south of Greece to sail to Miletus. Being
caught in a storm, the boat was carried out of her course

o

as far as the island of Lesbos, where she stayed for sev-
eral days, in order that the damage caused by the storm
might be repaired. In the mean time Periander landed,
and occupied himself in wandering about the island
and watching the inhabitants. In his wanderings, he
came one evening upon a group of men and women,
the sight of whom made him pause with a longing to
join them. They had been working hard all day, gather-
ing the grapes, and pressing them in big, wooden vats,
to extract the wine for which Lesbos was famous; and
now, in the beautiful autumn evening, they were mak-
ing merry after their labors.

No wonder Periander stayed to watch them, for they
made a very pretty picture, - - the handsome youths,
with their bronzed faces and strong, fine limbs; the
women with their gay dresses and bare feet, that seemed
to have been made for dancing; the vine-clad hill at the
back, and, over it all, the glow of the setting sun. In

18

ARION AND THE DOLPHIN

the centre of the dancers sat a boy, playing upon a small
lute with seven strings. To this accompaniment the
dancers chanted a song in praise of Dionysus, the god
of the vine. Gradually the music went faster and faster;
and faster and faster the feet of the dancers sped over
the ground, until they were all out of breath, and lay
laughing on the grass.

Then, as the boy struck another chord, all laughter
was hushed, and he began to sing; it was a simple,
plaintive little song, but there was a magic in his voice
which held the listeners spellbound. The last rays of
the setting sun played about his golden curls, and lit
up his sweet, childish face, as he sang: —

"Why should you grieve for me, my love,

When I am laid to rest?
Our lives are shaped by the gods above,

And they know best.

What though I stand on the farther shore,
Others have crossed the stream before —

Why weep in vain?
Life is but a drop in the deep,
Soon we wake from the last, lone sleep,

And meet again."

As the last note died away, a sigh came from the
listeners; some of the women turned away their faces,
and the young men began to talk hastily, as if to hide
their emotion.

Periander waited until the group began to break up.
Then he stepped forward and laid his hand on the
boy's shoulder. The boy looked up with a smile.

'What is your name, my fair minstrel ?" asked Peri-
ander.

19

STORIES FROM HERODOTUS

"My name is Arion," answered the boy, as if he were
used to being questioned. :'I come from Methymna
beyond the hills, where I used to tend the goats."
And he told Periander that his mother and father died
before he could remember, and that he was brought
up by an old goat-herd; until a traveling minstrel, who
happened one day to hear him singing on the hills, took
charge of him and taught him to play the lute.

"That was one of his own songs I was singing,"
said Arion. "He always liked me to sing his songs;
but, when I am a man, I shall make my own songs, and
sing them in the great cities over the sea."

"And so you shall," said Periander. "Now, listen to
me, Arion! Some day, perhaps, I also may be a great
man, able to help you to become a great singer. Re-
member, when you have need of a friend, that Periander
of Corinth will help you, if he can!"

And, when he departed, Periander left a sum of
money with a worthy old couple, who promised to look
after the boy, and see that he wanted nothing.

After some years, Periander became king of Corinth,
and having a love of everything beautiful, he soon gath-
ered about him a little band of poets, artists, and mu-
sicians. One day, when he was listening to one of the
court musicians, something — it might have been a
chord in the music - - reminded him of the little Lesbian
Arion. He seemed to see once more the boy with the
golden light on his curls, and the upturned faces of the
peasants grouped around him; and the very words
of the song ran in his head.

"By Apollo!" he cried, so suddenly that the musi-

20

ARION AND THE DOLPHIN

cian nearly fell off his seat. "We will have the little

v

Lesbian at court, and make a famous singer of him.
Where is Glaucus ? Ho, there ! Bid Glaucus attend the
king!"

When Glaucus appeared, the king bade him take a
boat and sail for Lesbos. "There you will make search
for one Arion, a singer," he said. "And when you have
found him, say, 'Periander of Corinth has need of his
friend Arion.' And see that you bring him safely to
Corinth!"

Glaucus did as he was bidden, and in due time found
Arion, now grown into a tall, graceful youth. Arion,
when he heard the message, consented to accompany
Glaucus to Corinth, where he was greeted with great
kindness by Periander. He very soon became a great
favorite among the Corinthians, and all the musicians
envied him his beautiful voice and his skill in playing
on the lute. No one had such power to soothe the king
in his black moods; nor was it at court alone that his
fame as a singer was known, for he was ever ready to
sing to the people, who idolized him and called him the
son of Apollo. Among other things he taught them the
song and dance of the Lesbians in honor of Dionysus
and the vine; it afterwards became one of the most
famous songs of Greece.

Many years Arion stayed with Periander, who held
him in high honor and loaded him with costly presents.
His fame spread as far as Italy and Sicily, and he had
many requests that he would go over and sing to the
people there. At length, he determined to make the
journey, not only from curiosity to see new countries,

21

STORIES FROM HERODOTUS

but also because he had heard of the songs sung by the
Sicilian shepherds, and had a great desire to study
them. Periander tried to dissuade him, but, finding
him resolved, he assisted him in his preparations, and
on his departure exacted from him a promise that he
would return to Corinth.

Arion traveled about Italy and Sicily for a long time,
and made a great fortune by his singing. But growing
tired at last of the wandering life, he went to Tarentum
to find a ship which would take him back to Corinth.
There were two or three ships ready to make the jour-
ney, among them one named the Nausicaa, which was
manned by a crew of Corinthians. This he chose, being
somewhat nervous about the large sum of money he
was carrying, and thinking that he could trust the
Corinthians, whom he knew, better than a crew of
foreigners.

The Nausicaa was a strange-looking vessel, with a
single sail, and long oars pulled by men who sat on
benches along the side. The prow, which was carved
to represent the maiden Nausicaa, stood well out of
the water, and the bulwarks descended in a graceful
curve to rise again at the stern, where the captain stood
and shaped his course by means of a broad paddle,
which was hung over the side.

The voyage began happily enough, the wind being
favorable, and the captain and crew all deference and
politeness. But when they were well out to sea, the
behavior of the crew changed; they answered Arion's
questions with scant politeness, and held many whis-
pered consultations, which, from the black glances

ARION AND THE DOLPHIN

cast at him, made him uneasy as to his safety. On the
second evening, waking out of a light sleep, he heard
them conspiring to throw him overboard and divide
his wealth among them. Arion started up and implored
them not to carry out their evil purpose, offering to
hand over all his wealth, if they would spare his life.
His entreaties and promises were all in vain.

"We give you a fair choice," said the captain bru-
tally. "Either leap inlo the sea at once, or kill yourself
in some other way, and we will bury you decently on
shore."

Abandoning his vain appeals for mercy, Arion begged
them, as a last favor, to let him sing once more before
he died.

"That we will not refuse," the captain answered;
"though, if you think to move us by your wailing, let
me tell you that you waste your breath!" In reality,
he was not displeased to have an opportunity of hear-
ing the most famous singer in the world.

Arion put on his sacred robes, in which he used to
sing in the temple of Apollo, and taking his lute he
stepped firmly to the prow of the vessel. There he
stood, pale and calm, in the silvery light of the moon,
his fair hair playing with the wind, while the little waves
lifted themselves to look at him, and then ran playfully
into the shadow of the boat, to dash their heads against
the beams and be broken into spray. The sailors were
awed in spite of themselves, as that beautiful voice rose
on the breeze. He sang the old song which he had sung
in the Lesbian vineyards when Periander saw him first.
And when he came to the last lines, -

23

STORIES FROM HERODOTUS

"Life is but a drop in the deep,
Soon we wake from the last, lone sleep,
And meet again,"

Arion leapt over the side of the vessel, just as he was.

The captain, fearing that some of the crew might be
moved to lend him assistance, gave the order to make
all speed ahead. Had he waited, he might have seen a
most wonderful sight. For, as Arion fell into the sea, the
water seemed to become alive beneath him, and he felt
it lifting him up, and carrying him rapidly away from
the ship. Then he discovered that he was seated astride
on a great, black fish, which was swimming very rap-
idly on the top of the water, and he knew it must be a
dolphin, which had been attracted by his singing; for
the dolphins, unlike most things that live in the sea,
have sharp ears, and are very fond of music. He touched
his lute, to see if the strings had suffered from the water,
and, as he did so, the great back quivered beneath him.
Finding, therefore, that the dolphin liked the music,
and thinking that he owed it some return for saving
his life, Arion began to sing, and sang song after song;
whenever he stopped, the dolphin ceased from swim-
ming, as if to inquire the reason; and when Arion be-
gan again, the dolphin bounded through the water with
great strokes of his broad tail. A strange sight it must
have been, had there been any one there to see! But
the dolphin went straight across the open sea, where
no ships were to be seen; for the sailors of that day did
not care to lose sight of the coast, but would sail all the
way round a large bay rather than straight across it.
So it was that Arion came to Tsenarus in Greece, with-

24

ARION AND THE DOLPHIN

out having been seen by any man. The dolphin took
him close to the shore, where he bade it good-by, and
watched it swim away disconsolately.

From Taenarus he made his way on foot to Corinth.
Periander was overjoyed to see him once more; and
when he marveled at the strange costume in which
Arion had traveled, Arion related the whole story.

Periander listened attentively, and, when it was fin-
ished, remarked gravely, "Are you then so little satis-
fied with your victories over the musicians, Arion, that
you have determined to be king of story-tellers also ?"

;<Does your majesty intend to throw doubt on my
story?" asked Arion.

;'Far be it from me!" answered Periander. "The
s*tory pleases me well, and if you will tell me another
such, I will take pains to believe that also."

'Then Zeus be my witness ! I will find means to prove
it," cried Arion.

"Have I not said that I doubted not?" asked Peri-
ander. 'Yet I would gladly see the proof. My crown
to your lute upon the issue!"

"So be it!" said Arion. "But first I must ask your
majesty that none may speak of my return; and when
the ship Nausicaa comes to port, let the seamen be
dealt with as I shall appoint!"

The king assented laughing, for he deemed the tale
impossible. After some days, however, it was announced
that the ship Nausicaa was in the harbor. Periander
summoned the captain and all the crew to the palace,
and asked them whether they had brought any news
of his minstrel Arion. The captain replied that men

25

STORIES FROM HERODOTUS

said at Tarentum that Arion was still in Italy, traveling
from place to place, and received everywhere with great
honor. The rest of the sailors confirmed the story, and
one of them added that Arion was said to prefer Italy
to Greece, nor had he any intention of returning to
Corinth.

At that moment a curtain was drawn and disclosed
Arion, standing in his sacred robes and holding his lute,
just as they had seen him last in the prow of the ship.
The sailors, supposing that they beheld his spirit, were
seized with terror, and fell at the king's feet, confessing
all their wickedness and begging for mercy. But Peri-
ander was filled with indignation, and spurned them
angrily. Arion interposed, urging the king to be merci-
ful, now that the seamen had seen their wickedness,
and were willing to make restitution. Periander, how-
ever, would not hear of mercy.

"Your compassion bears witness to your noble spirit,
Arion," he replied. " But these men have planned a most
cruel and cowardly murder, and cruelly shall they suffer
for it. Seize me these men, guards, and bind them!"

The guards came forward and began to lead away
the trembling wretches.

"Stay!" cried Arion. "It is I who am king. Did
not your majesty stake your crown against my lute,
and can the royal word be broken ? Back, guards ! I
claim my wager."

Periander could not refrain from laughter, but con-
fessed himself beaten by this piece of strategy. 'The
wit of Arion," he said, "is stronger than the tears of
repentance. Release the prisoners!"

26

ARION AND THE DOLPHIN

"That being so," said Arion, "and seeing that I find
myself more easy with the lute, I will restore the royal
crown to Periander."

So the men were set at liberty, after having restored
the property of Arion, and departed full of gratitude,
invoking blessings on his head.

And lest any man should doubt the truth of the story
in time to come, Arion erected at Tsenarus a statue
in bronze, representing a man riding on a dolphin's
back.

STORIES FROM LIVY

ROMULUS, FOUNDER OF ROME

Adapted by Alfred J. Church

7F1NEAS of Troy, coming to the land of Italy, took
./ I A to wife Lavinia, daughter of King Latinus,
and built him a city, which he called Lavinium, after
the name of his wife. And, after thirty years, his son
Ascanius went forth from Lavinium with much people,
and built him a new city, which he called Alba. In
this city reigned kings of the house and lineage of
^Eneas for twelve generations. Of these kings the
eleventh in descent was one Procas, who, having two
sons, Numitor and Amulius, left his kingdom, accord-
ing to the custom, to Numitor, the elder. But Amulius
drove out his brother, and reigned in his stead. Nor
was he content with this wickedness, but slew all the
male children of his brother. And the daughter of
his brother, that was named Rhea Silvia, he chose to
be a priestess of Vesta, making as though he would do
the maiden honor, but his thought was that the name
of his brother should perish, for they that serve Vesta
are vowed to perpetual virginity.

But it came to pass that Rhea bare twin sons, whose
father, it was said, was the god Mars. Very wroth
was Amulius when he heard this thing; Rhea he made
fast in prison, and the children he gave to certain of
his servants that they should cast them into the river.

31

STORIES FROM LIVY

Now it chanced that at this season Tiber had over-
flowed his banks, neither could the servants come near
to the stream of the river; nevertheless they did not
doubt that the children would perish, for all that the
overflowing of the water was neither deep nor of a
swift current. Thinking, then, that they had duly per-
formed the commandment of the king, they set down
the babes in the flood and departed. But after a while
the flood abated, and left the basket wherein the chil-
dren had been laid on dry ground. And a she-wolf, com-
ing down from the hill to drink at the river (for the
country in those days was desert and abounding in wild
beasts), heard the crying of the children and ran to
them. Nor did she devour them, but gave them suck;
nay, so gentle was she that Faustulus, the king's shep-
herd, chancing to go by, saw that she licked them with
her tongue. This Faustulus took the children and gave
them to his wife to rear; and these, when they were
of age to go by themselves, were not willing to abide
with the flocks and herds, but were hunters, wander-
ing through the forests that were in those parts. And
afterward, being now come to full strength, they were not
content to slay wild beasts only, but would assail troops
of robbers, as these were returning laden with their
booty, and would divide the spoils among the shep-
herds. Now there was held in those days, on the hill
that is now called the Palatine, a yearly festival to the
god Pan. This festival King Evander first ordained,
having come from Arcadia, in which land, being a land
of shepherds, Pan, that is the god of shepherds, is greatly
honored. And when the young men and their company

32

ROMULUS, FOUNDER OF ROME

(for they had gathered a great company of shepherds
about them, and led them in all matters both of busi-
ness and of sport) were busy with the festival, there
came upon them certain robbers that had made an
ambush in the place, being very wroth by reason of the
booty which they had lost. These laid hands on Remus,
but Romulus they could not take, so fiercely did he
fight against them. Remus, therefore, they delivered up
to King Amulius, accusing him of many things, and
chiefly of this, that he and his companions had in-
vaded the land of Numitor, dealing with them in the
fashion of an enemy and carrying off much spoil. To
Numitor, therefore, did the king deliver Remus, that
he might put him to death. Now Faustulus had be-
lieved from the beginning that the children were of
the royal house, for he knew that the babes had been
cast into the river by the king's command, and the
time also of his finding them agreed thereto. Never-
theless he had not judged it expedient to open the mat-
ter before due time, but waited till occasion or neces-
sity should arise. But now, there being such necessity,
he opened the matter to Romulus. Numitor also, when
he had the young man Remus in his custody, know-
ing that he and his brother were twins, and that the
time agreed, and seeing that they were of a high spirit,
bethought him of his grandsons; and, indeed, having
asked many questions of Remus, was come nigh to
knowing of what race he was. And now also Romu-
lus was ready to help his brother. To come openly
with his whole company he dared not, for he was not
a match for the power of King Amulius; but he bade

33

STORIES FROM LIVY

sundry shepherds make their way to the palace, each
as best he could, appointing to them a time at which
they should meet. And now came Remus also, with
a troop of youths gathered together from the house-
hold of Numitor. Then did Romulus and Remus
slay King Amulius. In the meanwhile Numitor gath-
ered the youth of Alba to the citadel, crying out that
they must make the place safe, for that the enemy
was upon them; but when he perceived that the young
men had done the deed, forthwith he called an as-
sembly of the citizens, and set forth to them the wick-
edness which his brother had wrought against him, and
how his grandsons had been born and bred and made
known to him, and then, in order, how the tyrant had
been slain, himself having counseled the deed. When
he had so spoken the young men came with their com-
pany into the midst of the assembly, and saluted him
as king; to which thing the whole multitude agreeing
with one consent, Numitor was established upon the
throne.

After this Romulus and his brother conceived this
purpose, that, leaving their grandfather to be king at
Alba, they should build for themselves a new city in
the place where, having been at the first left to die,
they had been brought up by Faustulus the shepherd.
And to this purpose many agreed both of the men of
Alba and of the Latins, and also of the shepherds that
had followed them from the first, holding it for certain
all of them that Alba and Lavinium would be of small
account in comparison of this new city which they should
build together. But while the brothers were busy with

34

ROMULUS, FOUNDER OF ROME

these things, there sprang up afresh the same evil thing
which had before wrought such trouble in their house,
even the lust of power. For though the beginnings of the
strife between them were peaceful, yet did it end in great
wickedness. The matter fell out in this wise. Seeing
that the brothers were twins, and that neither could
claim to have the preference to the other in respect
of his age, it was agreed between them that the gods
that were the guardians of that country should make
known by means of augury which of the two they
chose to give his name to the new city. Then Romulus
stood on the Palatine hill, and when there had been
marked out for him a certain region of the sky, watched
therein for a sign ; and Remus watched in like manner,
standing on the Aventine. And to Remus first came
a sign, six vultures; but so soon as the sign had been
proclaimed there came another to Romulus, even twelve
vultures. Then they that favored Remus clamored
that the gods had chosen him for king, because he
had first seen the birds ; and they that favored Romulus
answered that he was to be preferred because he had
seen more in number. This dispute waxed so hot that
they fell to fighting; and in the fight it chanced that
Remus was slain. But some say that when Romulus
had marked out the borders of the town which he would
build, and had caused a wall to be built round it,
Remus leapt over the wall, scorning it because it was
mean and low; and that Romulus slew him, crying
out, "Thus shall every man perish that shall dare to
leap over my walls." Only others will have it that though
he perished for this cause Romulus slew him not, "but

35

STORIES FROM LIVY

a certain Celer. This much is certain, that Romulus
gained the whole kingdom for himself, and called the
city after his own name.

V

And now, having first done sacrifice to the Gods, he
called a general assembly of the people, that he might
give them laws, knowing that without laws no city can
endure. And judging that these would be the better
kept of his subjects if he should himself bear something
of the show of royal majesty, he took certain signs
of dignity, and especially twelve men that should con-
tinually attend him, bearing bundles of rods, and in
the midst of the rods an axe; these men they called
lictors: Meanwhile the city increased, for the king and
his people enlarged their borders, looking rather to
the greatness for which they hoped than to that which
they had. And that this increase might not be alto-
gether empty walls without men, Romulus set up a
sanctuary, to which were gathered a great multitude of
men from the nations round about. All that were dis-
contented and lovers of novelty came to him. Nor did

*/

he take any account of their condition, whether they
were bond or free, but received them all. Thus was
there added to the city great strength. And the king,
when he judged that there was strength sufficient, was
minded to add to the strength counsel. Wherefore he
chose a hundred men for counselors. A hundred he
chose, either because he held that number to be suffi-
cient, or because there were no more that were fit to
bear this dignity and be called Fathers, for this was the
name of these counselors.

After this the people bethought themselves how they

36

ROMULUS, FOUNDER OF ROME

should get for themselves wives, for there were no women
in the place. Wherefore Romulus sent ambassadors to
the nations round about, praying that they should give
their daughters to his people for wives. "Cities," he
said, "have humble beginnings even as all other things.
Nevertheless they that have the Gods and their own
valor to help become great. Now that the gods are with
us, as ye know, be assured also that valor shall not be
wanting." But the nations round about would not
hearken to him, thinking scorn of this gathering of
robbers and slaves and runaways, so that they said,
"Why do ye not open a sanctuary for women also that
so ye may find fit wives for your people?" Also they
feared for themselves and their children what this new
city might grow to. Now when the ambassadors brought
back this answer the Romans were greatly wroth, and
would take by force that which their neighbors would
not give of their free will. And to the end that they
might do this more easily, King Romulus appointed
certain days whereon he and his people would hold a
festival with games to Neptune; and to this festival
he called all them that dwelt in the cities round about.
But when many were gathered together (for they were
fain to see what this new city might be), and were now
wholly bent on the spectacle of the games, the young
men of the Romans ran in upon them, and carried off
all such as were unwedded among the women. To
these King Romulus spake kindly, saying, "The fault
is not with us but with your fathers, who dealt proudly
with us, and would not give you to us in marriage.
But now ye shall be held in all honor as our wives, and

37

STORIES FROM LIVY

shall have your portion of all that we possess. Put
away therefore your anger, for ye shall find us so much
the better husbands than other men, as we must be to
you not for husbands only but parents also and native
country."

In the meanwhile the parents of them that had been
carried off put on sackcloth, and went about through
the cities crying out for vengeance upon the Romans.
And chiefly they sought for help from Titus Tatius,
that was king of the Sabines in those days, and of great
power and renown. But when the Sabines seemed to be
tardy in the matter, the men of Coere first gathered
together their army and marched into the country of
the Romans. Against these King Romulus led forth
his men and put them to flight without much ado,
having first slain their king with his own hand. Then,
after returning to Rome, he carried the arms which he
had taken from the body of the king to the hill of the
Capitol, and laid them down at the shepherds' oak that
stood thereon in those days. And when he had mea-
sured out the length and breadth of a temple that he
would build to Jupiter upon the hill, he said, "O Jupiter,
I, King Romulus, offer to thee these arms of a king,
and dedicate therewith a temple in this place, in which
temple they that come after me shall offer to thee like
spoils in like manner, when it shall chance that the
leader of our host shall himself slay with his own hands
the leader of the host of the enemy." And this was the
first temple that was dedicated in Rome. And in all
the time to come two only offered in this manner, to
wit, Cornelius Cossus that slew Lars Tolumnius, king

38

ROMULUS, FOUNDER OF ROME

of Veii, and Claudius Marcellus that slew Britomarus,
king of the Gauls.

After this, King Tatius and the Sabines came up
against Rome with a great army. And first of all they
gained the citadel by treachery in this manner. One
Tarpeius was governor of the citadel, whose daughter,
Tarpeia by name, going forth from the walls to fetch
water for a sacrifice, took money from the king that
she should receive certain of the soldiers within the
citadel; but when they had been so received, the men
cast their shields upon her, slaying her with the weight
of them. This they did either that they might be thought
to have taken the place by force, or that they judged
it to be well that no faith should be kept with traitors.
Some also tell this tale, that the Sabines wore great
bracelets of gold on their left arms, and on their left
hands fair rings with precious stones therein, and that
when the maiden covenanted with them that she should
have for a reward that which they carried in their left
hands, they cast their shields upon her. And other
say that she asked for their shields having the purpose
to betray them, and for this cause was slain.

Thus the Sabines had possession of the citadel; and
the next day King Romulus set the battle in array on
the plain that lay between the hill of the Capitol and
the hill of the Palatine. And first the Romans were
very eager to recover the citadel, a certain Hostilius
being their leader. But when this man, fighting in the
forefront of the battle, was slain, the Romans turned
their backs and fled before the Sabines, even unto the
gate of the Palatine. Then King Romulus (for he him-

39

STORIES FROM LIVY

self had been carried away by the crowd of them that
fled) held up his sword and his spear to the heavens,
and cried aloud, "O Jupiter, here in the Palatine didst
thou first, by the tokens which thou sentest me, lay
the foundations of my city. And lo! the Sabines have
taken the citadel by wicked craft, and have crossed
the valley, and are come up even hither. But if thou
sufferest them so far, do thou at the least defend this
place against them, and stay this shameful flight of my
people. So will I build a temple for thee in this place,
even a temple of Jupiter the Stayer, that may be a
memorial to after generations of how thou didst this
day save this city." And when he had so spoken, even
as though he knew that the prayer had been heard, he
cried, "Ye men of Rome, Jupiter bids you stand fast
in this place and renew the battle." And when the men
of Rome heard these words, it was as if a voice from
heaven had spoken to them, and they stood fast, and
the king himself went forward and stood among the
foremost. Now the leader of the Sabines was one Cur-
tius. This man, as he drave the Romans before him,
cried out to his comrades, " See, we have conquered
these men, false hosts and feeble foes that they are!
Surely now they know that it is one thing to carry off
maidens and another to fight with men." But whilst
he boasted himself thus, King Romulus and a com-
pany of the youth rushed upon him. Now Curtius was
fighting on horseback, and being thus assailed he fled,
plunging into a certain pool which lay between the
Palatine hill and the Capitol. Thus did he barely es-
cape with his life, and the lake was called thereafter

40

ROMULUS, FOUNDER OF ROME

Curtius' pool. And now the Sabines began to give way
to the Romans, when suddenly the women for whose
sake they fought, having their hair loosened and their
garments rent, ran in between them that fought, cry-
ing out, "Shed ye not each other's blood, ye that are
fathers-in-law and sons-in-law to each other. But if
ye break this bond that is between you, slay us that
are the cause of this trouble. And surely it were better
for us to die than to live if we be bereaved of our fathers
or of our husbands." With these words they stirred
the hearts both of the chiefs and of the people, so that
there was suddenly made a great silence. And after-
ward the leaders came forth to make a covenant; and
these indeed so ordered matters that there was not
peace only, but one state where there had been two.
For the Sabines came to Rome and dwelt there; and
King Romulus and King Tatius reigned together. Only,
after a while, certain men of Lanuvium slew King
Tatius as he was sacrificing to the Gods at Lavinium;
and thereafter Romulus only was king as before.

When he had reigned thirty and seven years there
befell the thing that shall now be told. On a certain
day he called the people together on the field of Mars,
and held a review of his armv. But while he did this

t/

there arose suddenly a great storm, with loud thunder-
ings and very thick clouds, so that the king was hidden
away from the eyes of all the people. Nor indeed was
he ever again seen upon the earth. And when men were
recovered of their fear they were in great trouble, be-
cause they had lost their king, though indeed the Fa-
thers would have it that he had been carried by a whirl-

41

STORIES FROM LIVY

wind into heaven. Yet after a while they began to wor-
ship him as being now a god; and when nevertheless
some doubted, and would even whisper among them-
selves that Romulus had been torn in pieces by the
Fathers, there came forward a certain Proculus, who
spake after this manner: "Ye men of Rome, this day,
in the early morning, I saw Romulus, the father of
this city, come down from heaven and stand before
me. And when great fear came upon me, I prayed that
it might be lawful for me to look upon him face to face.
Then said he to me, ' Go thy way, tell the men of Rome
that it is the will of them that dwell in heaven that
Rome should be the chief est city in the world. Bid
them therefore be diligent in war; and let them know
for themselves and tell their children after them that
there is no power on earth so great that it shall be able
to stand against them.' And when he had thus spoken,
he departed from me, going up into heaven." All men
believed Proculus when he thus spake, and the people
ceased from their sorrow when they knew that King
Romulus had been taken up into heaven.

HOW HORATIUS HELD THE

BRIDGE

Adapted by Alfred J. Church

[King Tarquin had been driven from Rome because
of his tyranny].

KING TARQUIN and his son Lucius (for he only
remained to him of the three) fled to Lars Por-
senna, king of Clusium, and besought him that he would
help them. "Suffer not," they said, "that we, who are
Tuscans by birth, should remain any more jn poverty
and exile. And take heed also to thyself and thine own
kingdom if thou permit this new fashion of driving
forth kings to go unpunished. For surely there is that
in freedom which men greatly desire, and if they that be
kings defend not their dignity as stoutly as others seek
to overthrow it, then shall the highest be made even
as the lowest, and there shall be an end of kingship,
than which there is nothing more honorable under
heaven." With these words they persuaded King
Porsenna, who judging it well for the Etrurians that
there should be a king at Rome, and that king an Etru-
rian by birth, gathered together a great army and came
up against Rome. But when men heard of his coming,
so mighty a city was Clusium in those days, and so
great the fame of King Porsenna, there was such fear
as had never been before. Nevertheless they were stead-

43

STORIES FROM LIVY

fastly purposed to hold out. And first all that were in
the country fled into the city, and round about the city
they set guards to keep it, part thereof being defended
by walls, and part, for so it seemed, being made safe by
the river. But here a great peril had well-nigh over-
taken the city; for there was a wooden bridge on the
river by which the enemy had crossed but for the cour-
age of a certain Horatius Codes. The matter fell out in
this wise.

There was a certain hill which men called Janiculum
on the side of the river, and this hill King Porsenna
took by a sudden attack. Which when Horatius saw
(for he chanced to have been set to guard the bridge,
and saw also how the enemy were running at full speed
to the place, and how the Romans were fleeing in con-
fusion and threw away their arms as they ran), he cried
with a loud voice, "Men of Rome, it is to no purpose
that ye thus leave your post and flee, for if ye leave this
bridge behind you for men to pass over, ye shall soon
find that ye have more enemies in your city than in
Janiculum. Do ye therefore break it down with axe
and fire as best ye can. In the meanwhile I, so far as
one man may do, will stay the enemy." And as he spake
he ran forward to the farther end of the bridge and made
ready to keep the way against the enemy. Nevertheless
there stood two with him, Lartius and Herminius by
name, men of noble birth both of them and of great
renown in arms. So these three for a while stayed the
first onset of the enemy; and the men of Rome mean-
while brake down the bridge. And when there was but
a small part remaining, and they that brake it down

44

HOW HORATIUS HELD THE BRIDGE

called to the three that they should come back, Horatius
bade Lartius and Herminius return, but he himself
remained on the farther side, turning his eyes full of
wrath in threatening fashion on the princes of the Etru-
rians, and crying, "Dare ye now to fight with me? or
why are ye thus come at the bidding of your master,
King Porsenna, to rob others of the freedom that ye
care not to have for yourselves?" For a while they
delayed, looking each man to his neighbor, who should
first deal with this champion of the Romans. Then,
for very shame, they all ran forward, and raising a great
shout, threw their javelins at him. These all he took
upon his shield, nor stood the less firmly in his place on
the bridge, from which when they would have thrust
him by force, of a sudden the men of Rome raised a
great shout, for the bridge was now altogether broken
down, and fell with a great crash into the river. And as
the enemy stayed a while for fear, Horatius turned him
to the river and said, "O Father Tiber, I beseech thee
this day with all reverence that thou kindly receive this
soldier and his arms." And as he spake he leapt with
all his arms into the river and swam across to his own
people, and though many javelins of the enemy fell
about him, he was not one whit hurt. Nor did such
valor fail to receive due honor from the city. For the
citizens set up a statue of Horatius in the market-place;
and they gave him of the public land so much as he
could plough about in one day. Also there was this
honor paid him, that each citizen took somewhat of his
own store and gave it to him, for food was scarce in the
city by reason of the siege.

HOW CINCINNATUS SAVED ROME

Adapted by Alfred J . Church

IT came to pass that the yEquians brake the treaty
of peace which they had made with Rome, and,
taking one Gracchus Clcelius for their leader, marched
into the land of Tusculum; and when they had plun-
dered the country thereabouts, and had gathered to-
gether much booty, they pitched their camp on Mount
JEgidus. To them the Romans sent three ambassadors,
who should complain of the wrong done, and seek re-
dress. But when they would have fulfilled their errand,
Gracchus the ^Equian spake, saying, "If ye have any
message from the Senate of Rome, tell it to this oak,
for I have other business to do;" for it chanced that
there was a great oak that stood hard by, and made a
shadow over the general's tent. Then one of the am-
bassadors, as he turned to depart, made reply, "Yes,
let this sacred oak and all the gods that are in heaven
hear how ye have wrongfully broken the treaty of
peace; and let them that hear help us also in the day
of battle, when we shall avenge on you the laws both
of gods and of men that ye have set at nought."

When the ambassadors had returned to Rome the
Senate commanded that there should be levied two
armies; and that Minucius the Consul should march
with the one against the ^Equians on Mount

46

HOW CINCINNATUS SAVED ROME

and that the other should hinder the enemy from their
plundering. This levying the tribunes of the Commons
sought to hinder; and perchance had done so, but there
also came well-nigh to the walls of the city a great host
of the Sabines plundering all the country. Thereupon
the people willingly offered themselves, and there were
levied forthwith two great armies. Nevertheless when
the Consul Minucius had marched to Mount ^Egidus,
and had pitched his camp not far from the ^Equians,
he did nought for fear of the enemy, but kept himself
within his entrenchments. And when the enemy per-
ceived that he was afraid, growing the bolder for his
lack of courage, they drew lines about him, keeping
him in on every side. Yet before that he was altogether
shut up there escaped from his camp five horsemen,
that bare tidings to Rome how that the Consul, together
with his army, was besieged. The people were sorely
dismayed to hear such tidings; nor, when they cast
about for help, saw they any man that might be suffi-
cient for such peril, save only Cincinnatus. By common
consent, therefore, he was made Dictator for six months,
a thing that may well be noted by those who hold that
nothing is to be accounted of in comparison of riches,
and that no man may win great honor or show forth
singular virtue unless he be well furnished with wealth.
For here in this great peril of the Roman people there
was no hope of safety but in one who was cultivating
with his own hand a little plot of scarcely three acres of
ground. For when the messengers of the people came
to him they found him ploughing, or, as some say,
digging a ditch. When they had greeted each the other,

47

STORIES FROM LIVY

the messengers said, "May the Gods prosper this thing
to the Roman people and to thee. Put on thy robe and
hear the words of the people." Then said Cincinnatus,
being not a little astonished, "Is all well?" and at the
same time he called to his wife Racilia that she should
bring forth his robe from the cottage. So she brought it
forth, and the man wiped from him the dust and the
sweat, and clad himself in his robe, and stood before the
messengers. These said to him, "The people of Rome
make thee Dictator, and bid thee come forthwith to the
city." And at the same time they told how the Consul
and his army were besieged by the ^Equians. So Cin-
cinnatus departed to Rome; and when he came to the
other side of the Tiber there met him first his three sons,
and next many of his kinsfolk and friends, and after
them a numerous company of the nobles. These all
conducted him to his house, the lictors, four and twenty
in number, marching before him. There was also
assembled a very great concourse of the people, fearing
much how the Dictator might deal with them, for they
knew what manner of man he was, and that there was
no limit to his power, nor any appeal from him.

The next day before dawn the Dictator came into the
market-place, and appointed one Lucius Tarquinius
to be Master of the Horse. This Tarquinius was held
by common consent to excel all other men in exercises
of war; only, though, being a noble by birth, he should
have been among the horsemen, he had served, for
lack of means, as a foot soldier. This done he called
an assembly of the people and commanded that all the
shops in the city should be shut; that no man should

48

HOW CINCINNATUS SAVED ROME

concern himself with any private business, but all
that were of an age to go to the war should be present
before sunset in the Field of Mars, each man having
with him provisions of cooked food for five days, and
twelve stakes. As for them that were past the age, they
should prepare the food while the young men made
ready their arms and sought for the stakes. These last
they took as they found them, no man hindering them;
and when the time appointed by the Dictator was come,
all were assembled, ready, as occasion might serve,
either to march or to give battle. Forthwith they set
out, the Dictator leading the foot soldiers by their le-
gions, and Tarquinius the horsemen, and each bidding
them that followed make all haste. 'We must needs
come," they said, "to our journey's end while it is yet
night. Remember that the Consul and his army have
been besieged now for three days, and that no man
knows what a day or a night may bring forth." The
soldiers themselves also were zealous to obey, crying
out to the standard-bearers that they should quicken
their steps, and to their fellows that they should not
lag behind. Thus they came at midnight to Mount
-iEgidus, and when they perceived that the enemy was
at hand they halted the standards. Then the Dictator
rode forward to see, so far as the darkness would suffer
him, how great was the camp of the vEquians and after
what fashion it was pitched. This done he commanded
that the baggage should be gathered together into a
heap, and that the soldiers should stand every man
in his own place. After this he compassed about the
whole army of the enemy with his own army, and

49

STORIES FROM LIVY

commanded that at a set signal every man should
shout, and when they had shouted should dig a trench
and set up therein the stakes. This the soldiers did, and
the noise of the shouting passed over the camp of the
enemy and came into the city, causing therein great
joy, even as it caused great fear in the camp. For the

Romans cried, "These be our countrvmen, and thev

* «.

bring us help." Then said the Consul, "We must
make no delay. By that shout is signified, not that
they are come only, but that they are already dealing
with the enemy. Doubtless the camp of the yEquians
is even now assailed from without. Take ye your arms
and follow me." So the legion went forth, it being yet
night, to the battle, and as they went they shouted,
that the Dictator might be aware. Now the ^Equians
had set themselves to hinder the making of a ditch and
rampart which should shut them in; but when the
Romans from the camp fell upon them, fearing lest
these should make their way through the midst of their
camp, they left them that were with Cincinnatus to
finish their entrenching, and fought with the Consul.
And when it was now light, lo ! they were already shut
in, and the Romans, having finished their entrenching,
began to trouble them. And when the J^quians per-
ceived that the battle was now on either side of them,
they could withstand no longer, but sent ambassa-
dors praying for peace, and saying, 'Ye have pre-
vailed; slay us not, but rather permit us to depart,
leaving our arms behind us." Then said the Dictator,
"I care not to have the blood of the ^Equians. Ye may
depart, but ye shall depart passing under the yoke,

50

HOW CINCINNATUS SAVED ROME

that ye may thus acknowledge to all men that ye are
indeed vanquished." Now the yoke is thus made.
There are set up in the ground two spears, and over
them is bound by ropes a third spear. So the ^Equians
passed under the yoke.

In the camp of the enemy there was found abundance
of spoil. This the Dictator gave wholly to his own sol-
diers. 'Ye were well-nigh a spoil to the enemy," said
he to the army of the Consul, "therefore ye shall have
no share in the spoiling of them. As for thee, Minucius,
be thou a lieutenant only till thou hast learnt how to
bear thyself as a consul." Meanwhile at Rome there
was held a meeting of the Senate, at which it was com-
manded that Cincinnatus should enter the city in tri-
umph, his soldiers following him in order of march.
Before his chariot there were led the generals of the
enemy; also the standards were carried in the front;
and after these came the army, every man laden with
spoil. That day there was great rejoicing in the city,
every man setting forth a banquet before his doors in
the street.

After this, Virginius, that had borne false witness
against Cseso, was found guilty of perjury, and went
into exile. And when Cincinnatus saw that justice
had been done to this evil-doer, he resigned his dic-
tatorship, having held it for sixteen days only.

THE STORY OF VIRGINIA

Adapted by Alfred J. Church

IT was agreed between the nobles and the commons
that, to make an end of disputing about the laws,
ambassadors should be sent into Greece, and especially
to Athens (which city and its lawgiver, Solon, were
held in high repute in those days), to learn what manner
of laws and customs they had, and to bring back a report
of them. And when the ambassadors had brought back
their report, it seemed good to the people that in the fol-
lowing year there should be appointed neither consuls
nor any other magistrate, but decemvirs only; that is
to say, ten men, who should set in order the laws of
Rome. Thus it came to pass in the ninety and first year
from the driving out of the kings, that decemvirs were
appointed in the stead of consuls, Appius Claudius
being the chief of the ten.

For a while these pleased the people well, doing justice
equally between man and man. And the custom was
that each day one of the ten sat as judge with the twelve
lictors about him, the nine others sitting with one minis-
ter only. Also they busied themselves with the order-
ing of the laws; and at last set forth ten tables on which
these were written. At the same time they called the
people together to an assembly, arid spake to them thus :
'The Gods grant that this undertaking may turn to

52

THE STORY OF VIRGINIA

the credit of the state, and of you, and of your children.
Go, therefore, and read these laws which we have set
forth; for though we have done what ten men could
do to provide laws that should be just to all, whether
they be high or low, yet the understandings of many
men may yet change many things for the better. Con-
sider therefore all these matters in your own minds,
and debate them among yourselves. For we will that
the Roman people should be bound by such laws only
as they shall have agreed together to establish."

The ten tables were therefore set forth, and when these
had been sufficientlv considered, and such corrections

•/

made therein as seemed good, a regular assembly of
the people was called, and the laws were duly estab-
lished. But now there was spread abroad a report
that two tables were yet wanting, and that when these
should have been added the whole would be complete;
and thence there arose a desire that the Ten should
be appointed to hold office a second year. This indeed
was done; but Appius Claudius so ordered matters
that there were elected together with him none of the
chief men of the state, but only such as were of an in-
ferior condition and fortune.

After this the Ten began more and more to set aside
all law and right. Thus whereas at the first one only
on each day was followed by the twelve lictors, each of
the Ten came daily into the market-place so attended,
and whereas before the lictors carried bundles of rods
only, now there was bound up with the rods an axe;
whereby was signified the power of life and death.
Their actions also agreed with this show, for they and

53

STORIES FROM LIVY

their ministers plundered the goods and chattels of the
people. Some also they scourged, and some they be-
headed. And when they had so put a man to death,
they would divide his substance among those that
waited upon them to do their pleasure.

Among their misdeeds two were especially notable.
There was a certain Sicinius in the host, a man of singu-
lar strength and courage, who took it ill that the Ten
should thus set themselves above all law, and was wont
to say to his comrades that the commons should de-
part from the city as they had done in time past, or
should at the least make them tribunes to be their
champions as of old. This Sicinius the Ten sent on
before the army, there being then war with the Sabines,
to search out a place for a camp; and with him they
sent certain others, bidding them slay him when they
should have come to some convenient place. This they
did, but not without suffering much loss; for the man
fought for his life and defended himself, slaying many
of his enemies. Then they that escaped ran into the
camp, saying that Sicinius had fallen into an ambus-
cade, and had died along with certain others of the
soldiers. At the first, indeed, this story was believed;
but afterward, when, by permission of the Ten, there
went some to bury the dead, they found that none of
the dead bodies had been spoiled, and that Sicinius
lay with his arms in the midst, the others having their
faces toward him; also that there was no dead body
of an enemy in the place, nor any track as of them that
had gone from the place; for which reasons they brought
back tidings that Sicinius had certainly been slain by

54

THE STORY OF VIRGINIA

his own comrades. At this there was great wrath in
the camp; and the soldiers were ready to carry the
body of Sicinius to Rome, but that the Ten made a
military funeral for him at the public cost. So they
buried Sicinius with great lamentation; but the Ten
were thereafter in very ill repute among the soldiers.

Again, there was a certain centurion, Lucius Vir-
ginius by name, an upright man and of good credit
both at home and abroad. This Virginius had a daugh-
ter, Virginia, a very fair and virtuous maiden, whom
he had espoused to a certain Icilius that had once been
a tribune of the commons. On this maiden Appius
Claudius, the chief of the Ten, sought to lay hands,
and for this end gave commandment to one Marcus
Claudius, who was one of the clients of his house,
that he should claim the girl for a slave. On the morrow
therefore, as Virginia passed across the market-place,
being on her way to school (for the schools in those
days were held in the market-place), this Claudius
seized her, affirming that she was born of a woman that
was a slave, and was therefore by right a slave herself.
The maiden standing still for fear, the nurse that at-
tended her set up a great cry and called the citizens
to help. Straightway there was a great concourse, for
many knew the maiden's father Virginius, and Icilius
to whom she was betrothed. Then said Claudius,
seeing that he could not take her by force, "There is
no need of tumult or of gathering a crowd. I would pro-
ceed by law, not by force." Thereupon he summoned
the girl before the judge. When they came to the judg-
ment-seat of Appius the man told a tale that had al-

55

STORIES FROM LIVY

ready been agreed upon between the two. 'This girl,"
he said, "was born in my house, and was thence secretly
taken to the house of Virginius, and passed off on the
man as his daughter. Of this I will bring proof sufficient,
such as will convince Virginius himself, who doubtless
has received the chief wrong in this matter. But in the
meanwhile it is reasonable that the slave should remain
in the house of her master." To this the friends of
the girl made answer, "Virginius is absent on the ser-
vice of the state, and will be here within the space of
two days, if tidings of this matter be sent to him. Now
it is manifestly wrong that judgment concerning a man's
children should be given while he is himself absent.
Let the cause, therefore, be postponed till he come.
Meanwhile let the maiden have her freedom, according
to the law which Appius and his fellows have them-
selves established."

Appius gave sentence in these words: "That I am
a favorer of freedom is manifest from this law of which
ye make mention. Yet this law must be observed in
all cases and without respect of persons; and as to
this girl, there is none but her father only to whom her
owner may yield the custody of her. Let her father there-
fore be sent for; but in the meanwhile Claudius must
have custody of her, as is his right, only giving security
that he will produce her on the morrow."

At this decree, so manifestly unrighteous was it,
there was much murmuring, yet none dared to oppose
it, till Numitorius, the girl's uncle, and Icilius came forth
from the crowd. The lictor cried, "Sentence has been
given," and bade Icilius give place. Then Icilius turned

56

THE STORY OF VIRGINIA

to Appius, saying, "Appius, thou must drive me hence
with the sword before thou canst have thy will in this
matter. This maiden is my espoused wife; and verily,
though thou call hither all thy lictors and the lictors
of thy colleagues, she shall not remain in any house
save the house of her father."

To this Appius, seeing that the multitude was greatly
moved and were ready to break forth into open violence,
made this reply: ''Icilius cares not for Virginia, but
being a lover of sedition and tumult, seeks an occasion
for strife. Such occasion I will not give him to-day.
But that he may know that I yield not to his insolence,
but have regard to the rights of a father, I pronounce
no sentence. I ask of Marcus Claudius that he will
concede something of his right, and suffer surety to be
given for the girl against the morrow. But if on the mor-
row the father be not present here, then I tell Icilius
and his fellows that he who is the author of this law
will not fail to execute it. Neither will I call in the lic-
tors of my colleague to put down them that raise a
tumult. For this my own lictors shall suffice."

So much time being thus gained, it seemed good to
the friends of the maiden that the son of Numitorius
and the brother of Icilius, young men both of them
and active, should hasten with all speed to the camp,
and bring Virginius thence as quickly as might be. So
the two set out, and putting their horses to their full
speed, carried tidings of the matter to the father. As
for Appius, he sat awhile on the judgment-seat, wait-
ing for other business to be brought before him, for
he would not have it seem that he had come for this

57

STORIES FROM LIVY

cause only; but finding that there was none, and in-
deed the people were wholly intent on the matter of
Virginia, he departed to his own house. Thence he
sent an epistle to his colleagues that were at the camp,
saying, "Grant no leave of absence to Virginius, but
keep him in safe custody with you." But this availed
nothing, for already, before ever the epistle was brought
to the camp, at the very first watch of the night, Vir-
ginius had set forth.

When Virginius was come to the city, it being then
early dawn, he put on mean apparel, as was the custom
with such as were in danger of life or liberty, and carried
about his daughter, who was clad in like manner,
praying all that he met to help and succor him. "Re-
member," said he, "that day by day I stand fighting
for you and for your children against your enemies.
But what shall this profit you or me if this city being
safe, nevertheless our children stand in peril of slavery
and shame?" Icilius spake in like manner, and the
women (for a company of matrons followed Virginia)
wept silently, stirring greatly the hearts of all that looked
upon them. But Appius, so set was his heart on evil,
heeded none of these things; but so soon as he had sat
him down on the seat of judgment, and he that claimed
the girl had said a few words complaining that right
had not been done to him, he gave his sentence, suf-
fering not Virginius to speak. What pretense of reason
he gave can scarce be imagined, but the sentence (for
this only is certain) was that the girl should be in the
custody of Claudius till the matter should be decided
by law. But when Claudius came to take the maiden,

58

THE STORY OF VIRGINIA

her friends and all the women that bare her company
thrust him back. Then said Appius, "I have sure
proof, and this not from the violence only of Icilius,
but from what is told to me of gatherings by night in
the city, that there is a purpose in certain men to stir
up sedition. Knowing this I have come hither with
armed men; not to trouble -quiet citizens, but to punish
such as would break the peace of the state. Such as
be wise, therefore, will keep themselves quiet. Lictor,
remove this crowd, and make room for the master
that he may take his slave." These words he thundered
forth in great anger; and the people, when they heard
them, fell back in fear, so that the maiden stood with-
out defense. Then Virginius, seeing that there were none
to help him, said to Appius, "I pray thee, Appius,
if I have said aught that was harsh to thee, that thou
wilt pardon it, knowing how a father must needs suffer
in such a case. But now suffer me to inquire somewhat
of this woman that is the girl's nurse, that I may know
what is the truth of the matter. For if I have been de-
ceived in the matter, and am not in truth father to the
girl, I shall be more content." Then, Appius giving per-
mission, he led his daughter and her nurse a little space
aside, to the shops that are by the temple of Cloacina,
and snatching a knife from a butcher's, said, "My
daughter, there is but this one way that I can make thee
free," and he drave the knife into her breast. Then he
looked back to the judgment-seat and cried, "With
this blood, Appius, I devote thee and thy life to per-
dition." There went up a great cry from all that stood
there when they saw so dreadful a deed, and Appius

59

STORIES FROM LIVY

commanded that they should seize him. But no man laid
hands on him, for he made a way for himself with the
knife that he carried in his hand, and they that followed
defended him, till he came to the gate of the city. Then
Icilius and Numitorius took up the dead body of the
maiden and showed it to the people, saying much of
the wickedness of him who had driven a father to do
such a deed, and much also of the liberty which had
been taken from them, and which, if they would only
use this occasion, they might now recover. As for
Appius, he cried out to his lictors that they should lay
hands on Icilius, and when the crowd suffered not the
lictors to approach, would himself have made a way
to him, by the help of the young nobles that stood by
him. But now the crowd had leaders, themselves also
nobles, Valerius and Horatius. These said, "If Appius
would deal with Icilius according to law we will be
securities for him; if he mean to use violence, we are
ready to meet him." And when the lictor would have
laid hands on these two the multitude brake his rods
to pieces. Then Appius would have spoken to the
people, but they clamored against him, so that at last,
losing all courage and fearing for his life, he covered
his head and fled secretly to his own house.

Meanwhile Virginius had made his way to the camp,
which was now on Mount Vecilius, and stirred up the
army yet more than he had stirred the city. "Lay not
to my charge," he said, "that which is in truth the
wickedness of Appius; neither turn from me as from
the murderer of my daughter. Her indeed I slew, think-
ing that death was better than slavery and shame; nor

60

THE STORY OF VIRGINIA

indeed had I survived her but that I hoped to avenge
her death by the help of my comrades." Others also
that had come from the city persuaded the soldiers;
some saying that the power of the Ten was overthrown,
and others that Appius had gone of his own accord into
banishment. These words so prevailed with the soldiers
that, without any bidding from their generals, they took
up their arms, and, with their standards carried before
them, came to Rome and pitched their camp on the
Aventine.

Nevertheless, the Ten were still obstinate, affirming
that they would not resign their authority till they had
finished the work for which they had been appointed,
namely, the drawing up of the twelve tables of the laws.
And when the army perceived this they marched from
the Aventine and took up their abode on the Sacred Hill,
all the commons following them, so that there was not
left in the city a single man that had ability to move;
nor did the women and children stay behind, but all,
as many as could move, bare them company; for Duilius,
that had been tribune, said, "Unless the Senate see the
city deserted, they will take no heed of your complaints."
And indeed, when these perceived what had taken place,
they were more urgent than before that the Ten should
resign their office. And these at last consented. "Only,"
said they, "do not suffer us to perish from the rage of
the commons. It will be an ill day for the nobles when
the people shall learn to take vengeance on them."
And the Senate so wrought that though at the first the
commons in their great fury demanded that the Ten
should be burned alive, yet they were persuaded to yield,

61

STORIES FROM LIVY

it being agreed that each man should be judged by the
law according to his deserts. Appius, therefore, was
accused by Virginius, and being cast into prison, slew
himself before the day appointed for the trial. Oppius
also, another of the Ten, whom the commons hated for
his misdeeds next after Appius, was accused and died
in like manner. As for Claudius, that had claimed
Virginia for his slave, he was condemned to be banished.
And thus at the last, the guilty having been punished,
the spirit of Virginia had rest.

THE SACRIFICE OF MARCUS

CURTIUS

Adapted by Alfred J. Church

IN the three hundred and ninety-third year after the
building of the city there was seen suddenly to open
in the market-place a great gulf of a deepness that no
man could measure. And this gulf could not be filled
up, though all the people brought earth and stones and
the like to cast into it. But at the last there was sent a
message from the Gods that the Romans must inquire
what was that by which more than all things the state
was made strong. "For," said the soothsayer, "this
thing must be dedicated to the Gods in this place if the
commonwealth of Rome is to stand fast forever." And
while they doubted, one Marcus Curtius, a youth that
had won great renown in war, rebuked them, saying,
"Can ye doubt that Rome hath nothing better than
arms and valor?"

Then all the people stood silent; and Curtius, first
beholding the temples of the immortal Gods that hung
over the market-place and the Capitol, and afterward
stretching forth his hands both to heaven above and to
this gulf that opened its mouth to the very pit, as it
were, of hell, devoted himself for his country; and so

-being clothed in armor and with arms in his hand,

63

STORIES FROM LIVY

and having his horse arrayed as sumptuously as might
be — he leapt into the gulf; and the multitude, both of
men and women, threw in gifts and offerings of the
fruits of the earth, and afterward the earth closed
together.

STORIES FROM OVID

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER

By Nathaniel Hawthorne

ONE evening, in times long ago, old Philemon and
his old wife Baucis sat at their cottage door, en-
joying the calm and beautiful sunset. They had already
eaten their frugal supper, and intended now to spend
a quiet hour or two before bedtime. So they talked
together about their garden, and their cow, and their
bees, and their grapevine, which clambered over the
cottage wall, and on which the grapes were beginning
to turn purple. But the rude shouts of children, and the
fierce barking of dogs, in the village near at hand, grew
louder and louder, until, at last, it was hardly possible
for Baucis and Philemon to hear each other speak.

"Ah, wife," cried Philemon, "I fear some poor trav-
eler is seeking hospitality among our neighbors yon-
der, and, instead of giving him food and lodging, they
have set their dogs at him, as their custom is!'3

" Well-a-day ! " answered old Baucis, "I do wish our
neighbors felt a little more kindness for their fellow-
creatures. And only think of bringing up their children
in this naughty way, and patting them on the head when
they fling stones at strangers!"

"Those children will never come to any good," said
Philemon, shaking his white head. "To tell you the
truth, wife, I should not wonder if some terrible thing
were to happen to all the people in the village, unless

G7

STORIES FROM OVID

/

they mend their manners. But, as for you and me, so
long as Providence affords us a crust of bread, let us be
ready to give half to any poor, homeless stranger that
may come along and need it."

'That 's right, husband ! " said Baucis. " So we will ! "

These old folks, you must know, were quite poor,
and had to work pretty hard for a living. Old Philemon
toiled diligently in his garden, while Baucis was always
busy with her distaff, or making a little butter and
cheese with their cow's milk, or doing one thing and
another about the cottage. Their food was seldom any-
thing but bread, milk, and vegetables, with sometimes
a portion of honey from their beehive, and now and
then a bunch of grapes, that had ripened against the
cottage wall. But they were two of the kindest old people
in the world, and would cheerfully have gone without
their dinners, any day, rather than refuse a slice of their
brown loaf, a cup of new milk, and a spoonful of honey,
to the weary traveler who might pause before their door.
They felt as if such guests had a sort of holiness, and
that they ought, therefore, to treat them better and more
bountifully than their own selves.

Their cottage stood on a rising ground, at some short
distance from a village, which lay in a hollow valley,
that was about half a mile in breadth. This valley, in
past ages, when the world was new, had probably been
the bed of a lake. There fishes had glided to and fro
in the depths, and water-weeds had grown along the
margin, and trees and hills had seen their reflected
images in the broad and peaceful mirror. But, as the
waters subsided, men had cultivated the soil, and built

68

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER

houses on it, so that it was now a fertile spot, and bore
no traces of the ancient lake, except a very small brook,
which meandered through the midst of the village, and
supplied the inhabitants with water. The valley had
been dry land so long that oaks had sprung up, and
grown great and high, and perished with old age, and
been succeeded by others, as tall and stately as the first.
Never was there a prettier or more fruitful valley. The
very sight of the plenty around them should have made
the inhabitants kind and gentle, and ready to show
their gratitude to Providence by doing good to their
fellow-creatures.

But, we are sorry to say, the people of this lovely
village were not worthy to dwell in a spot on which
Heaven had smiled so beneficently. They were a very
selfish and hard-hearted people, and had no pity for
the poor, nor sympathy with the homeless. They would
only have laughed, had anybody told them that human
beings owe a debt of love to one another, because there
is no other method of paying the debt of love and care
which all of us owe to Providence. You will hardlv

•i

believe what I am going to tell you. These naughty
people taught their children to be no better than them-
selves, and used to clap their hands, by way of en-
couragement, when they saw the little boys and girls
run after some poor stranger, shouting at his heels,
and pelting him with stones. They kept large and fierce
dogs, and whenever a traveler ventured to show him-
self in the village street, this pack of disagreeable curs
scampered to meet him, barking, snarling, and showing
their teeth. Then they would seize him by his leg, or

60

STORIES FROM OVID

by his clothes, just as it happened; and if he were
ragged when he came, he was generally a pitiable object
before he had time to run away. This was a very ter-
rible thing to poor travelers, as you may suppose, espe-
cially when they chanced to be sick, or feeble, or lame,
or old. Such persons (if they once knew how badly these
unkind people, and their unkind children and curs,
were in the habit of behaving) would go miles and miles
out of their way, rather than try to pass through the
village again.

What made the matter seem worse, if possible, was
that when rich persons came in their chariots, or riding
on beautiful horses, with their servants in rich liveries
attending on them, nobody could be more civil and
obsequious than the inhabitants of the village. They
would take off their hats, and make the humblest bows
you ever saw. If the children were rude, they were
pretty certain to get their ears boxed; and as for the
dogs, if a single cur in the pack presumed to yelp, his
master instantly beat him with a club, and tied him up
without any supper. This would have been all very
well, only it proved that the villagers cared much about
the money that a stranger had in his pocket, and nothing
whatever for the human soul, which lives equally in the
beggar and the prince.

So now you can understand why old Philemon spoke
so sorrowfullv, when he heard the shouts of the children

«/ 7

and the barking of the dogs, at the farther extremity
of the village street. There was a confused din, which
lasted a good while, and seemed to pass quite through
the breadth of the valley.

70

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER

" I never heard the dogs so loud ! " observed the good
old man.

"Nor the children so rude!" answered his good old
wife.

They sat shaking their heads, one to the other, while
the noise came nearer and nearer; until, at the foot of
the little eminence on which their cottage stood, they
saw two travelers approaching on foot. Close behind
them came the fierce dogs, snarling at their very heels.
A little farther off ran a crowd of children, who sent
up shrill cries, and flung stones at the two strangers,
with all their might. Once or twice, the younger of the
two men (he was a slender and very active figure) turned
about and drove back the dogs with a staff which he
carried in his hand. His companion, who was a very
tall person, walked calmly along as if disdaining to
notice either the naughty children or the pack of curs,
whose manners the children seemed to imitate.

Both of the travelers were very humbly clad, and
looked as if they might not have money enough in their
pockets to pay for a night's lodging. And this, I am
afraid, was the reason why the villagers had allowed
their children and dogs to treat them so rudely.

"Come, wife," said Philemon to Baucis, "let us go
and meet these poor people. No doubt, they feel almost
too heavy-hearted to climb the hill."

:' Go you and meet them," answered Baucis, "while
I make haste within doors, and see whether we can
get them anything for supper. A comfortable bowl of
bread and milk would do wonders towards raising their
spirits."

71

STORIES FROM OVID

Accordingly, she hastened into the cottage. Phile-
mon, on his part, went forward, and extended his
hand with so hospitable an aspect that there was no
need of saying what nevertheless he did say, in the
heartiest tone imaginable, -

"Welcome, strangers! welcome!"

"Thank you!" replied the younger of the two, in a
lively kind of way, notwithstanding his weariness and
trouble. " This is quite another greeting than we have
met with yonder in the village. Pray, why do you live
in such a bad neighborhood ? "

"Ah!" observed old Philemon, with a quiet and
benign smile, " Providence put me here, I hope, among
other reasons, in order that I may make you what
amends I can for the inhospitality of my neighbors."

"Well said, old father!" cried the traveler, laughing;
"and, if the truth must be told, my companion and
myself need some amends. Those children (the little
rascals !) have bespattered us finely with their mud-balls ;
and one of the curs has torn my cloak, which was ragged
enough already. But I took him across the muzzle with
my staff; and I think you may have heard him yelp,
even thus far off."

Philemon was glad to see him in such good spirits;
nor, indeed, would you have fancied, by the traveler's
look and manner, that he was weary with a long day's
journey, besides being disheartened by rough treatment
at the end of it. He was dressed in rather an odd way,
with a sort of cap on his head, the brim of which stuck
out over both ears. Though it was a summer evening,
he wore a cloak, which he kept wrapt closely about

72

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER

him, perhaps because his under garments were shabby.
Philemon perceived, too, that he had on a singular pair
of shoes; but, as it was now growing dusk, and as the
old man's eyesight was none the sharpest, he could not
precisely tell in wrhat the strangeness consisted. One
thing, certainly, seemed queer. The traveler was so
wonderfully light and active, that it appeared as if his
feet sometimes rose from the ground of their own ac-
cord, or could only be kept down by an effort.

" I used to be light-footed, in my youth," said Phile-
mon to the traveler. " But I always found my feet grow
heavier towards nightfall."

" There is nothing like a good staff to help one along,"
answered the stranger; "and I happen to have an
excellent one, as you see."

This staff, in fact, was the oddest-looking staff that
Philemon had ever beheld. It was made of olive-wood,
and had something like a little pair of wings near the
top. Two snakes, carved in the wood, were represented
as twining themselves about the staff, and were so very
skillfully executed that old Philemon (whose eyes, you
know, were getting rather dim) almost thought them
alive, and that he could see them wriggling and twisting.

"A curious piece of work, sure enough!" said he.
" A staff with wings ! It would be an excellent kind of
stick for a little boy to ride astride of!"

By this time Philemon and his two guests had reached
the cottage door.

"Friends," said the old man, "sit down and rest
yourselves here on this bench. My good wife Baucis
has gone to see what you can have for supper. We are

73

STORIES FROM OVID

poor folks; but you shall be welcome to whatever we
have in the cupboard."

The younger stranger threw himself carelessly on
the bench, letting his staff fall, as he did so. And here
happened something rather marvelous, though trifling
enough, too. The staff seemed to get up from the ground
of its own accord, and, spreading its little pair of wings,
it half hopped, half flew, and leaned itself against the
wall of the cottage. There it stood quite still, except
that the snakes continued to wriggle. But, in my private
opinion, old Philemon's eyesight had been playing him
tricks again.

Before he could ask any questions, the elder stranger
drew his attention from the wonderful staff, by speaking
to him.

" Was there not," asked the stranger, in a remarkably
deep tone of voice, " a lake, in very ancient times, cover-
ing the spot where now stands yonder village ? "

"Not in my day, friend," answered Philemon; "and
yet I am an old man, as you see. There were always
the fields and meadows, just as they are now, and the
old trees, and the little stream murmuring through the
midst of the valley. My father, nor his father before
him, ever saw it otherwise, so far as I know; and doubt-
less it will still be the same, when old Philemon shall
be gone and forgotten ! "

'That is more than can be safely foretold," observed
the stranger; and there was something very stern in his
deep voice. He shook his head, too, so that his dark and
heavy curls were shaken with the movement. "Since
the inhabitants of yonder village have forgotten the

74

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER

affections and sympathies of their nature, it were better
that the lake should be rippling over their dwellings
again ! "

The traveler looked so stern that Philemon was
really almost frightened; the more so, that, at his frown,
the twilight seemed suddenly to grow darker, and that,
when he shook his head, there was a roll as of thunder
in the air.

But, in a moment afterwards, the stranger's face
became so kindly and mild that the old man quite for-
got his terror. Nevertheless, he could not help feeling
that this elder traveler must be no ordinary personage,
although he happened now to be attired so humbly and
to be journeying on foot. Not that Philemon fancied
him a prince in disguise, or any character of that sort;
but rather some exceedingly wise man, who went about
the world in this poor garb, despising wealth and all
worldly objects, and seeking everywhere to add a mite
to his wisdom. This idea appeared the more probable,
because, when Philemon raised his eyes to the stranger's
face, he seemed to see more thought there, in one look,
than he could have studied out in a lifetime.

While Baucis was getting the supper, the travelers
both began to talk very sociably with Philemon. The
younger, indeed, was extremely loquacious, and made
such shrewd and witty remarks that the good old man
continually burst out a-laughing, and pronounced him
the merriest fellow whom he had seen for many a day.

'Pray, my young friend," said he, as they grew
familiar together, " what may I call your name ? "

' Why, I am very nimble, as you see," answered the

75

STORIES FROM OVID

traveler. "So, if you call me Quicksilver, the name
will fit tolerably well."

"Quicksilver? Quicksilver?" repeated Philemon,
looking in the traveler's face, to see if he were making
fun of him. "It is a very odd name! And your com-
panion there ? Has he as strange a one ? "

"You must ask the thunder to tell it you!" replied
Quicksilver, putting on a mysterious look. "No other
voice is loud enough."

This remark, whether it were serious or in jest, might
have caused Philemon to conceive a very great awe of
the elder stranger, if, on venturing to gaze at him, he
had not beheld so much beneficence in his visage. But
undoubtedly here was the grandest figure that ever
sat so humbly beside a cottage door. When the stranger
conversed, it was with gravity, and in such a way that
Philemon felt irresistibly moved to tell him everything
which he had most at heart. This is always the feeling
that people have when they meet with any one wise
enough to comprehend all their good and evil, and to
despise not a tittle of it.

But Philemon, simple and kind-hearted old man that
he was, had not many secrets to disclose. He talked,
however, quite garrulously, about the events of his past
life, in the whole course of which he had never been a
score of miles from this very spot. His wife Baucis and
himself had dwelt in the cottage from their youth up-
ward, earning their bread by honest labor, always poor,
but still contented. He told what excellent butter and
cheese Baucis made, and how nice were the vegetables
which he raised in his garden. He said, too, that, because

76

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER

they loved one another so very much, it was the wish
of both that death might not separate them, but that
they should die, as they had lived, together.

As the stranger listened, a smile beamed over his
countenance, and made its expression as sweet as it was
grand.

'You are a good old man," said he to Philemon,
"and you have a good old wife to be your helpmeet.
It is fit that your wish be granted."

And it seemed to Philemon, just then, as if the sun-
set clouds threw up a bright flash from the west, and
kindled a sudden light in the sky.

Baucis had now got supper ready, and, coming to
the door, began to make apologies for the poor fare
which she was forced to set before her guests.

:'Had we known you were coming," said she, "my
good man and myself would have gone without a morsel,
rather than you should lack a better supper. But I
took the most part of to-day's milk to make cheese;
and our last loaf is already half eaten. Ah me! I never
feel the sorrow of being poor, save when a poor traveler
knocks at our door."

"All will be very well; do not trouble yourself, my
good dame," replied the elder stranger kindly. "An
honest, hearty welcome to a guest works miracles with
the fare, and is capable of turning the coarsest food to
nectar and ambrosia."

"A welcome you shall have," cried Baucis, "and
likewise a little honey that we happen to have left, and
a bunch of purple grapes besides."

'Why, Mother Baucis, it is a feast!" exclaimed

77

STORIES FROM OVID

Quicksilver, laughing; "an absolute feast! and you
shall see how bravely I will play my part at it ! I think
I never felt hungrier in my life."

"Mercy on us!" whispered Baucis to her husband.
"If the young man has such a terrible appetite, I am
afraid there will not be half enough supper!"

They all went into the cottage.

And now, my little auditors, shall I tell you something
that will make you open your eyes very wide? It is
really one of the oddest circumstances in the whole
story. Quicksilver's staff, you recollect, had set itself
up against the wall of the cottage. Well, when its
master entered the door, leaving this wonderful staff
behind, what should it do but immediately spread its
little wings, and go hopping and fluttering up the door-
steps! Tap, tap, went the staff, on the kitchen floor;
nor did it rest until it had stood itself on end, with
the greatest gravity and decorum, beside Quicksilver's
chair. Old Philemon, however, as well as his wife, was
so taken up in attending to their guests that no notice
was given to what the staff had been about.

As Baucis had said, there was but a scanty supper
for two hungry travelers. In the middle of the table
was the remnant of a brown loaf, with a piece of cheese
on one side of it, and a dish of honeycomb on the other.
There was a pretty good bunch of grapes for each of
the guests. A moderately sized earthen pitcher, nearly
full of milk, stood at a corner of the board; and when
Baucis had filled two bowls, and set them before the
strangers, only a little milk remained in the bottom of
the pitcher, Alas! it is a very sad business, when a

78

"I AM AFRAID THERE WILL NOT BE HALF ENOUGH SUPPER"

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER

bountiful heart finds itself pinched and squeezed among
narrow circumstances. Poor Baucis kept wishing that
she might starve for a week to come, if it were possible,
by so doing, to provide these hungry folks a more
plentiful supper.

And, since the supper was so exceedingly small, she
could not help wishing that their appetites had not
been quite so large. Why, at their very first sitting
down, the travelers both drank off all the milk in their
two bowls, at a draught.

"A little more milk, kind Mother Baucis, if you
please," said Quicksilver. 'The day has been .hot,
and I am very much athirst."

"Now, my dear people," answered Baucis, in great
confusion, " I am so sorry and ashamed ! But the truth is,
there is hardly a drop more milk in the pitcher. O hus-
band, husband, why did n't we go without our supper ? "

"Why, it appears to me," cried Quicksilver, starting
up from table and taking the pitcher by the handle,
"it really appears to me that matters are not quite so
bad as you represent them. Here is certainly more
milk in the pitcher."

So saying, and to the vast astonishment of Baucis,
he proceeded to fill, not only his own bowl, but his
companion's likewise, from the pitcher that was sup-
posed to be almost empty. The good woman could
scarcely believe her eyes. She had certainly poured
out nearly all the milk, and had peeped in afterwards,
and seen the bottom of the pitcher, as she set it down
upon the table.

"But I am old," thought Baucis to herself, "and

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STORIES FROM OVID

apt to be forgetful. I suppose I must have made a
mistake. At all events, the pitcher cannot help being
empty now, after filling the bowls twice over."

"What excellent milk!" observed Quicksilver, after
quaffing the contents of the second bowl. :' Excuse me,
my kind hostess, but I must really ask you for a little

more.'

Now Baucis had seen, as plainly as she could see
anything, that Quicksilver had turned the pitcher up-
side down, and consequently had poured out every
drop of milk, in filling the last bowl. Of course, there
coujd not possibly be any left. However, in order to
let him know precisely how the case was, she lifted the
pitcher, and made a gesture as if pouring milk into
Quicksilver's bowl, but without the remotest idea that
any milk would stream forth. What was her surprise,
therefore, when such an abundant cascade fell bubbling
into the bowl, that it was immediately filled to the brim,
and overflowed upon the table! The two snakes that
were twisted about Quicksilver's staff (but neither
Baucis nor Philemon happened to observe this cir-
cumstance) stretched out their heads, and began to lap
up the spilt milk.

And then what a delicious fragrance the milk had!
It seemed as if Philemon's only cow must have pastured,
that day, on the richest herbage that could be found
anywhere in the world. I only wish that each of you,
my beloved little souls, could have a bowl of such nice
milk, at supper-time!

" And now a slice of your brown loaf. Mother Baucis,'*
said Quicksilver, " and a little of that honey!"

SO

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER

Baucis cut him a slice accordingly; and though the
loaf, when she and her husband ate of it, had been
rather too dry and crusty to be palatable, it was now as
light and moist as if but a few hours out of the oven.
Tasting a crumb, which had fallen on the table, she found
it more delicious than bread ever was before, and could
hardly believe that it was a loaf of her own kneading
and baking. Yet, what other loaf could it possibly be ?

But oh, the honey! I may just as well let it alone,
without trying to describe how exquisitely it smelt and
looked. Its color was that of the purest and most trans-
parent gold; and it had the odor of a thousand flowers;
but of such flowers as never grew in an earthly garden,
and to seek which the bees must have flown high above
the clouds. The wonder is, that, after alighting on a
flower-bed of so delicious fragrance and immortal
bloom, they should have been content to fly down again
to their hive in Philemon's garden. Never was such
honey tasted, seen, or smelt. The perfume floated
around the kitchen, and made it so delightful, that,
had you closed your eyes, you would instantly have
forgotten the low ceiling and smoky walls, and have
fancied yourself in an arbor, with celestial honeysuckles
creeping over it.

Although good Mother Baucis was a simple old
dame, she could 'not but think that there was some-
thing rather out of the common way in all that had
been going on. So, after helping the guests to bread
and honey, and laying a bunch of grapes by each of
their plates, she sat down by Philemon, and told him
what she had seen, in a whisper.

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STORIES FROM OVID

" Did you ever hear the like ? " asked she.

"No, I never did," answered Philemon, with a
smile. "And I rather think, my dear old wife, you
have been walking about in a sort of a dream. If I
had poured out the milk, I should have seen through
the business at once. There happened to be a little
more in the pitcher than you thought, — that is all."

"Ah, husband," said Baucis, "say what you will,
these are very uncommon people."

'Well, well," replied Philemon, still smiling, "per-
haps they are. They certainly do look as if they had
seen better days; and I am heartily glad to see them
making so comfortable a supper."

Each of the guests had now taken his bunch of
grapes upon his plate. Baucis (who rubbed her eyes,
in order to see the more clearly) was of opinion that
the clusters had grown larger and richer, and that
each separate grape seemed to be on the point of burst-
ing with ripe juice. It was entirely a mystery to her
how such grapes could ever have been produced from
the old stunted vine that climbed against the cottage
wall.

'Very admirable grapes these!" observed Quick-
silver, as he swallowed one after another, without ap-
parently diminishing his cluster. "Pray, my good
host, whence did you gather them ? "

"From my own vine," answered Philemon. "You
may see one of its branches twisting across the window,
yonder. But wife and I never thought the grapes very
fine ones."

;'I never tasted better," said the guest. "Another

82

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER

cup of this delicious milk, if you please, and I shall
then have supped better than a prince."

This time, old Philemon bestirred himself, and took
up the pitcher; for he was curious to discover whether
there was any reality in the marvels which Baucis had
whispered to him. He knew that his good old wife
was incapable of falsehood, and that she was seldom
mistaken in what she supposed to be true; but this
was so very singular a case, that he wanted to see into
it with his own eyes. On taking up the pitcher, there-
fore, he slyly peeped into it, and was fully satisfied
that it contained not so much as a single drop. All at
once, however, he beheld a little white fountain, which
gushed up from the bottom of the pitcher, and speed-
ily filled it to the brim with foaming and deliciously
fragrant milk. It was lucky that Philemon, in his
surprise, did not drop the miraculous pitcher from his

»hand.
"Who are ye, wonder-working strangers!" cried
he, even more bewildered than his wife had been.

" Your guests, my good Philemon, and your friends,"
replied the elder traveler, in his mild, deep voice, that
had something at once sweet and awe-inspiring in it.
"Give me likewise a cup of the milk; and may your
pitcher never be empty for kind Baucis and yourself,
any more than for the needy wayfarer!"

The supper being now over, the strangers requested
to be shown to their place of repose. The old people
would gladly have talked with them a little longer, and
have expressed the wonder which they felt, and their
delight at finding the poor and meagre supper prove

83

STORIES FROM OVID

so much better and more abundant than they hoped.
But the elder traveler had inspired them with such
reverence that they dared not ask him any questions.

•

And when Philemon drew Quicksilver aside, and in-
quired how under the sun a fountain of milk could
have got into an old earthen pitcher, this latter person-
age pointed to his staff.

"There is the whole mystery of the aifair," quoth
Quicksilver; "and if you can make it out, I'll thank
you to let me know. I can't tell what to make of my
staff. It is always playing such odd tricks as this;
sometimes getting me a supper, and, quite as often,
stealing it away. If I had any faith in such nonsense,
I should say the stick was bewitched!"

He said no more, but looked so slyly in their faces,
that they rather fancied he was laughing at them. The
magic staff went hopping at his heels, as Quicksilver
quitted the room. When left alone, the good old couple
spent some little time in conversation about the events
of the evening, and then lay down on the floor, and
fell fast asleep. They had given up their sleeping-
room to the guests, and had no other bed for them-
selves, save these planks, which I wish had been as soft
as their own hearts.

The old man and his wife were stirring, betimes, in
the morning, and the strangers likewise arose with the
sun, and made their preparations to depart. Philemon
hospitably entreated them to remain a little longer,
until Baucis could milk the cow, and bake a cake upon
the hearth, and, perhaps, find them a few fresh eggs,
for breakfast. The guests, however, seemed to think

84

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER

it better to accomplish a good part of their journey
before the heat of the day should come on. They,
therefore, persisted in setting out immediately, but
asked Philemon and Baucis to walk forth with them
a short distance, and show them the road which they
were to take.

So they all four issued from the cottage, chatting to-
gether like old friends. It was very remarkable, in-
deed, how familiar the old couple insensibly grew with
the elder traveler, and how their good and simple spir-
its melted into his, even as two drops of water would
melt into the illimitable ocean. And as for Quicksil-
ver, with his keen, quick, laughing wits, he appeared
to discover every little thought that but peeped into
their minds, before they suspected it themselves. They
sometimes wished, it is true, that he had not been quite
so quick-witted, and also that he would fling away his
staff, which looked so mvsteriously mischievous, with

«/ *>

the snakes always writhing about it. But then, again,
Quicksilver showed himself so very good-humored,
that they would have been rejoiced to keep him in
their cottage, staff, snakes, and all, every day, and the
whole day long.

"Ah me! Well-a-day!" exclaimed Philemon, when
they had walked a little way from their door. ' If our
neighbors only knew what a blessed thing it is to show
hospitality to strangers, they would tie up all their
dogs, and never allow their children to fling another
stone."

"It is a sin and shame for them to behave so, -
that it is!" cried good old Baucis vehemently. "And

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STORIES FROM OVID

I mean to go this very day, and tell some of them what
naughty people they are!"

"I fear," remarked Quicksilver, slyly smiling, "that
you will find none of them at home."

The elder traveler's brow, just then, assumed such
a grave, stern, and awful grandeur, yet serene withal,
that neither Baucis nor Philemon dared to speak a
word. They gazed reverently into his face, as if they
had been gazing at the sky.

' When men do not feel towards the humblest stran-
ger as if he were a brother," said the traveler, in tones
so deep that they sounded like those of an organ, "they
are unworthy to exist on earth, which was created as
the abode of a great human brotherhood!"

"And, by the by, my dear old people," cried Quick-
silver, with the liveliest look of fun and mischief in
his eyes, ''where is this same village that you talk
about ? On which side of us does it lie ? Methinks
I do not see it hereabouts."

Philemon and his wife turned towards the valley,
where, at sunset, only the day before, they had seen
the meadows, the houses, the gardens, the clumps of
trees, the wide, green-margined street, with children
playing in it, and all the tokens of business, enjoy-
ment, and prosperity. But what was their astonish-
ment! There was no longer any appearance of a vil-
lage! Even the fertile vale, in the hollow of which it
lay, had ceased to have existence. In its stead, they
beheld the broad, blue surface of a lake, which filled
the great basin of the valley from brim to brim, and re-
flected the surrounding hills in its bosom with as tran-

86

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER

quil an image as if it had been there ever since the
creation of the world. For an instant, the lake re-
mained perfectly smooth. Then a little breeze sprang
up, and caused the water to dance, glitter, and sparkle
in the early sunbeams, and to dash, with a pleasant
rippling murmur, against the hither shore.

The lake seemed so strangely familiar, that the old
couple were greatly perplexed, and felt as if they could
only have been dreaming about a village having lain
there. But, the next moment, they remembered the
vanished dwellings, and the faces and characters of
the inhabitants, far too distinctly for a dream. The
village had been there yesterday, and now was gone!

"Alas!" cried these kind-hearted old people, "what
has become of our poor neighbors?"

'They no longer exist as men and women," said the
elder traveler, in his grand and deep voice, while a
roll of thunder seemed to echo it at a distance. ' There
was neither use nor beauty in such a life as theirs;
for they never softened or sweetened the hard lot
of mortality by the exercise of kindly affections be-
tween man and man. They retained no image of the
better life in their bosoms; therefore, the lake, that
was of old, has spread itself forth again, to reflect the
sky!"

"And as for those foolish people," said Quicksilver,
with his mischievous smile, "they are all transformed
to fishes. There needed but little change, for they
were already a scaly set of rascals, and the coldest-
blooded beings in existence. So, kind Mother Baucis,
whenever you or your husband have an appetite for a

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STORIES FROM OVID

dish of broiled trout, he can throw in a line, and pull
out half a dozen of your old neighbors ! "

"Ah," cried Baucis shuddering, "I would not, for
the world, put one of them on the gridiron!"

"No," added Philemon, making a wry face, !'we
could never relish them!"

"As for you, good Philemon," continued the elder
traveler, - - " and you, kind Baucis, - - you, with your
scanty means, have mingled so much heartfelt hospi-
tality with your entertainment of the homeless stranger,
that the milk became an inexhaustible fount of nec-
tar, and the brown loaf and the honey were ambrosia.
Thus, the divinities have feasted, at your board, off
the same viands that supply their banquets on Olym-
pus. You have done well, my dear old friends. Where-
fore, request whatever favor you have most at heart,
and it is granted."

Philemon and Baucis looked at one another, and
then - - 1 know not which of the two it was who spoke,
but that one uttered the desire of both their hearts.

"Let us live together, while we live, and leave the
world at the same instant, when we die! For we have
always loved one another!"

'Be it so!" replied the stranger > with majestic
kindness. "Now, look towards your cottage!"

They did so. But what was their surprise on be-
holding a tall edifice of white marble, with a wide-
open portal, occupying the spot where their humble
residence had so lately stood!

'There is your home," said the stranger, beneficently
smiling on them both. "Exercise your hospitality in

88

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER

yonder palace as freely as in the poor hovel to which
you welcomed us last evening."

The old folks fell on their knees to thank him; but,
behold! neither he nor Quicksilver was there.

So Philemon and Baucis took up their residence in
the marble palace, and spent their time, with vast sat-
isfaction to themselves, in making everybody jolly and
comfortable who happened to pass that way. The
milk-pitcher, I must not forget to say, retained its
marvelous quality of being never empty, when it was
desirable to have it full. Whenever an honest, good-
humored, and free-hearted guest took a draught from
this pitcher, he invariably found it the sweetest and
most invigorating fluid that ever ran down his throat.
But, if a cross and disagreeable curmudgeon happened
to sip, he was pretty certain to twist his visage into a
hard knot, and pronounce it a pitcher of sour milk!

Thus the old couple lived in their palace a great, great
while, and grew older and older, and very old indeed.
At length, however, there came a summer morning
when Philemon and Baucis failed to make their ap-
pearance, as on other mornings, with one hospitable
smile overspreading both their pleasant faces, to invite
the guests of over-night to breakfast. The guests
searched everywhere, from top to bottom of the spa-
cious palace, and all to no purpose. But, after a great
deal of perplexity, they espied, in front of the portal,
two venerable trees, which nobody could remember to
have seen there the day before. Yet there they stood,
with their roots fastened deep into the soil, and a huge
breadth of foliage overshadowing the whole front of

89

STORIES FROM OVID

the edifice. One was an oak, and the other a linden-
tree. Their boughs - - it was strange and beautiful to
see - - were intertwined together, and embraced one
another, so that each tree seemed to live in the other
tree's bosom much more than in its own.

While the guests were marveling how these trees,
that must have required at least a century to grow,
could have come to be so tall and venerable in a sin-
gle night, a breeze sprang up, and set their intermin-
gled boughs astir. And then there was a deep, broad
murmur in the air, as if the two mysterious trees were
speaking.

"I am old Philemon!" murmured the oak.

"I am old Baucis!" murmured the linden-tree.

But, as the breeze grew stronger, the trees both
spoke at once, - - " Philemon ! Baucis ! Baucis ! Phil-
emon ! " - as if one were both and both were one, and
talking together in the depths of their mutual heart.
It was plain enough to perceive that the good old
couple had renewed their age, and were now to spend
a quiet and delightful hundred years or so, Philemon
as an oak, and Baucis as a linden-tree. And oh, what
a hospitable shade did they fling around them ! When-
ever a wayfarer paused beneath it, he heard a pleasant
whisper of the leaves above his head, and wondered
how the sound should so much resemble words like
these : —

" Welcome, welcome, dear traveler, welcome ! "

And some kind soul, that knew what would have
pleased old Baucis and old Philemon best, built a cir-
cular seat around both their trunks, where, for a great

90

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER

while afterwards, the weary, and the hungry, and the
thirsty used to repose themselves, and quaff milk abun-
dantly from the miraculous pitcher.

And I wish, for all our sakes, that we had the pitcher
here now!

THE GOLDEN TOUCH

By Nathaniel Hawthorne

ONCE upon a time, there lived a very rich man,
and a king besides, whose name was Midas; and
he had a little daughter, whom nobody but myself ever
heard of, and whose name I either never knew or have
entirely forgotten. So, because I love odd names for
little girls, I choose to call her Mary gold.

This King Midas was fonder of gold than of any-
thing else in the world. He valued his royal crown
chiefly because it was composed of that precious metal.
If he loved anything better, or half so well, it was
the one little maiden who played so merrily around
her father's footstool. But the more Midas loved his
daughter, the more did he desire and seek for wealth.
He thought, foolish man! that the best thing he could
possibly do for this dear child would be to bequeath
her the immensest pile of yellow, glistening coin, that
had ever been heaped together since the world was
made. Thus, he gave all his thoughts and all his time
to this one purpose. If ever he happened to gaze for
an instant at the gold-tinted clouds of sunset, he wished
that they were real gold, and that they could be squeezed
safely into his strong box. When little Marygold ran
to meet him with a bunch of buttercups and dandelions,
he used to say, " Poh, poh, child ! If these flowers were

92

THE GOLDEN TOUCH

as golden as they look, they would be worth the pluck-
ing!"

And yet, in his earlier days, before he was so en-
tirely possessed of this insane desire for riches, King
Midas had shown a great taste for flowers. He had
planted a garden, in which grew the biggest and beau-
tifulest and sweetest roses that any mortal ever saw
or smelt. These roses were still growing in the gar-
den, as large, as lovely, and as fragrant as when Midas
used to pass whole hours in gazing at them and in-
baling their perfume. But now, if he looked at them
at all, it was only to calculate how much the garden
would be worth if each of the innumerable rose-petals
were a thin plate of gold. And though he once was
fond of music (in spite of an idle story about his ears,
which were said to resemble those of an ass), the
only music for poor Midas, now, was the chink of one
coin against another.

At length (as people always grow more and more
foolish, unless they take care to grow wiser and wiser),
Midas had got to be so exceedingly unreasonable, that
he could scarcely bear to see or touch any object that
was not gold. He made it his custom, therefore, to
pass a large portion of every day in a dark and dreary
apartment, under ground, at the basement of his pal-
ace. It was here that he kept his wealth. To this
dismal hole - - for it was little better than a dungeon

- Midas betook himself, whenever he wanted to be
particularly happy. Here, after carefully locking the
door, he would take a bag of gold coin, or a gold cup
as big as a washbowl, or a heavy golden bar, or a peck-

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STORIES FROM OVID

measure of gold-dust, and bring them from the ob-
scure corners of the room into the one bright and nar-
row sunbeam that fell from the dungeon-like window.
He valued the sunbeam for no other reason but that
his treasure would not shine without its help. And
then would he reckon over the coins in the bag; toss
up the bar, and catch it as it came down ; sift the gold-
dust through his fingers ; look at the funny image of
his own face, as reflected in the burnished circumfer-
ence of the cup; and whisper to himself, "O Midas,
rich King Midas, what a happy man art thou!" But
it was laughable to see how the image of his face kept
grinning at him, out of the polished surface of the cup.
It seemed to be aware of his foolish behavior, and to
have a naughty inclination to make fun of him.

Midas called himself a happy man, but felt that he
was not yet quite so happy as he might be. The very
tiptop of enjoyment would never be reached, unless
the whole world were to become his treasure-room, and
be filled with yellow metal which should be all his own.

Now, I need hardly remind such wise little people
as you are, that in the old, old times, when King Midas
was alive, a great many things came to pass, which we
should consider wonderful if they were to happen in
our own day and country. And, on the other hand, a
great many things take place nowadays, which seem
not only wonderful to us, but at which the people of old
times would have stared their eyes out. On the whole,
I regard our own times as the strangest of the two; but,
however that may be, I must go on with my story.

Midas was enjoying himself in his treasure-room,

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THE GOLDEN TOUCH

one day, as usual, when he perceived a shadow fall
over the heaps of gold; and, looking suddenly up, what
should he behold but the figure of a stranger, standing
in the bright and narrow sunbeam ! It was a young man,
with a cheerful and ruddy face. Whether it was that
the imagination of King Midas threw a yellow tinge
over everything, or whatever the cause might be, he
could not help fancying that the smile with which the
stranger regarded him had a kind of golden radiance
in it. Certainly, although his figure intercepted the
sunshine, there was now a brighter gleam upon all the
piled-up treasures than before. Even the remotest cor-
ners had their share of it, and were lighted up, when the
stranger smiled, as with tips of flame and sparkles of fire.
As Midas knew that he had carefully turned the key
in the lock, and that no mortal strength could possibly
break into his treasure-room, he, of course, concluded
that his visitor must be something more than mortal.
It is no matter about telling you who he was. In those
days, when the earth was comparatively a new affair,
it was supposed to be often the resort of beings endowed
with supernatural power, and who used to interest
themselves in the joys and sorrows of men, women, and
children, half playfully and half seriously. Midas had
met such beings before now, and was not sorry to meet
one of them again. The stranger's' aspect, indeed, was
so good-humored and kindly, if not beneficent, that it
would have been unreasonable to suspect him of in-
tending any mischief. It was far more probable that
he came to do Midas a favor. And what could that
favor be, unless to multiply his heaps of treasure ?

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STORIES FROM OVID

The stranger gazed about the room; and when his
lustrous smile had glistened upon all the golden objects
that were there, he turned again to Midas.

"You are a wealthy man, friend Midas!" he ob-
served. ;'I doubt whether any other four walls, on
earth, contain so much gold as you have contrived to
pile up in this room."

"I have done pretty well, — pretty well," answered
Midas, in a discontented tone. "But, after all, it is
but a trifle, when you consider that it has taken me my
whole life to get it together. If one could live a thou-
sand years, he might have time to grow rich!"

'What!" exclaimed the stranger. 'Then you are
not satisfied ? "

Midas shook his head.

" And pray what would satisfy you ? " asked the
stranger. 'Merely for the curiosity of the thing, I
should be glad to know."

Midas paused and meditated. He felt a presentiment
that this stranger, with such a golden lustre in his good-
humored smile, had come hither with both the power
and the purpose of gratifying his utmost wishes. Now,
therefore, was the fortunate moment, when he had but
to speak, and obtain whatever possible, or seemingly
impossible thing, it might come into his head to ask.
So he thought, and thought, and thought, and heaped
up one golden mountain upon another, in his imagina-
tion, without being able to imagine them big enough.
At last, a bright idea occurred to King Midas. It seemed
really as bright as the glistening metal which he loved
so much.

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THE GOLDEN TOUCH

Raising his head, he looked the lustrous stranger in
the face.

' Well, Midas," observed his visitor, " I see that you
have at length hit upon something that will satisfy you.
Tell me your wish."

"It is only this," replied Midas. "I am weary of
collecting my treasures with so much trouble, and be-
holding the heap so diminutive, after I have done my
best. I wish everything that I touch to be changed to
gold ! "

The stranger's smile grew so very broad, that it
seemed to fill the room like an outburst of the sun,
gleaming into a shadowy dell where the yellow autum-
nal leaves - - for so looked the lumps and particles of
gold - - lie strewn in the glow of light.

* The Golden Touch ! " exclaimed he. " You certainly
deserve credit, friend Midas, for striking cut so brilliant
a conception. But are you quite sure that this will
satisfy you ? "

"How could it fail?" said Midas.

" And will you never regret the possession of it ? "

' What could induce me ? " asked Midas. " I ask
nothing else, to render me perfectly happy."

'Be it as you wish, then," replied the stranger,
waving his hand in token of farewell. "To-morrow,
at sunrise, you will find yourself gifted with the Golden
Touch."

The figure of the stranger then became exceedingly
bright, and Midas involuntarily closed his eyes. On
opening them again, he beheld only one yellow sun-
beam in the room, and, all around him, the glistening

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of the precious metal which he had spent his life in
hoarding up.

Whether Midas slept as usual that night, the story
does not say. Asleep or awake, however, his mind was
probably in the state of a child's, to whom a beautiful
new plaything has been promised in the morning. At
any rate, day had hardly peeped over the hills, when
King Midas was broad awake, and, stretching his arms
out of bed, began to touch the objects that were within
reach. He was anxious to prove whether the Golden
Touch had really come, according to the stranger's
promise. So he laid his finger on a chair by the bedside,
and on various other things, but was grievously dis-
appointed to perceive that they remained of exactly
the same substance as before. Indeed, he felt very
much afraid that he had only dreamed about the lustrous
stranger, or else that the latter had been making game
of him. And what a miserable affair would it be, if,
after all his hopes, Midas must content himself with
what little gold he could scrape together by ordinary
means, instead of creating it bv a touch!

o */

All this while it was only the gray of the morning,
with but a streak of brightness along the edge of the
sky, where Midas could not see it. He lay in a very
disconsolate mood, regretting the downfall of his hopes,
and kept growing sadder and sadder, until the earliest
sunbeam shone through the window, and gilded the
ceiling over his head. It seemed to Midas that this
bright yellow sunbeam was reflected in rather a singular
way on the white covering of the bed. Looking more
closely, what was his astonishment and delight, when

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THE GOLDEN TOUCH

he found that this linen fabric had been transmuted
to what seemed a woven texture of the purest and
brightest gold! The Golden Touch had come to him
with the first sunbeam!

Midas started up, in a kind of joyful frenzy, and ran
about the room, grasping at everything that happened
to be in his way. He seized one of the bed-posts, and
it became immediately a fluted golden pillar. He pulled
aside a window-curtain, in order to admit a clear spec-
tacle of the wonders which he was performing; and
the tassel grew heavy in his hand, - - a mass of gold.
He took up a book from the table. At his first touch,
it assumed the appearance of such a splendidly bound
and gilt-edged volume as one often meets with, nowa-
days; but, on running his fingers through the leaves,
behold ! it was a bundle of thin golden plates, in which
all the wisdom of the book had grown illegible. He
hurriedly put on his clothes, and was enraptured to see
himself in a magnificent suit of gold cloth, which re-
tained its flexibility and softness, although it burdened
him a little with its weight. He drew out his hand-
kerchief, which little Marygold had hemmed for him.
That was likewise gold, with the dear child's neat and
pretty stitches running all along the border, in gold
thread !

Somehow or other, this last transformation did not
quite please King Midas. He would rather that his
little daughter's handiwork should have remained just
the same as when she climbed his knee and put it into
his hand.

But it was not worth while to vex himself about a

«>

STORIES FROM OVID

trifle. Midas now took his spectacles from his pocket,
and put them on his nose, in order that he might see
more distinctly what he was about. In those days,
spectacles for common people had not been invented,
but were already worn by kings ; else, how could Midas
have had any ? To his great perplexity, however, excel-
lent as the glasses were, he discovered that he could
not possibly see through them. But this was the most
natural thing in the world; for on taking them off, the
transparent crystals turned out to be plates of yellow
metal, and, of course, were worthless as spectacles,
though valuable as gold. It struck Midas as rather
inconvenient that, with all his wealth, he could never
again be rich enough to own a pair of serviceable
spectacles.

" It is no great matter, nevertheless," said he to him-
self, very philosophically. " We cannot expect any great
good, without its being accompanied with some small
inconvenience. The Golden Touch is worth the sacrifice
of a pair of spectacles, at least, if not of one's very
eyesight. My own eyes will serve for ordinary purposes,
and little Marygold will soon be old enough to read to
me."

Wise King Midas was so exalted by his good fortune
that the palace seemed not sufficiently spacious to
contain him. He therefore went downstairs, and smiled,
on observing that the balustrade of the staircase became
a bar of burnished gold, as his hand passed over it in
his descent. He lifted the door-latch (it was brass only
a moment ago, but golden when his fingers quitted it),
and emerged into the garden. Here, as it happened,

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THE GOLDEN TOUCH

he found a great number of beautiful roses in full bloom,
and others in all the stages of lovely bud and blossom.
Very delicious was their fragrance in the morning
breeze. Their delicate blush was one of the fairest
sights in the world; so gentle, so modest, and so full of
sweet tranquillity did these roses seem to be.

But Midas knew a way to make them far more pre-
cious, according to his way of thinking, than roses had
ever been before. So he took great pains in going from
bush to bush, and exercised his magic touch most in-
defatigably; until every individual flower and bud, and
even the worms at the heart of some of them, were
changed to gold. By the time this good work was com-
pleted, King Midas was summoned to breakfast; and
as the morning air had given him an excellent appetite,
he made haste back to the palace.

What was usually a king's breakfast in the days of
Midas, I really do not know, and cannot stop now to
investigate. To the best of my belief, however, on this
particular morning, the breakfast consisted of hot cakes,
some nice little brook trout, roasted potatoes, fresh
boiled eggs, and coffee, for King Midas himself, and
a bowl of bread and milk for his daughter Marygold.
At all events, this is a breakfast fit to set before a king;
and, whether he had it or not, King Midas could not
have had a better.

Little Marygold had not yet made her appearance.
Her father ordered her to be called, and, seating him-
self at table, awaited the child's coming, in order to
begin his own breakfast. To do Midas justice, he really
loved his daughter, and loved her so much the more

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this morning, on account of the good fortune which had
befallen him. It was not a great while before he heard
her coming along the passage-way crying bitterly. This
circumstance surprised him, because Marygold was
one of the cheerfullest little people whom you would see
in a summer's day, and hardly shed a thimbleful of
tears in a twelvemonth. When Midas heard her sobs,
he determined to put little Marygold into better spirits,
by an agreeable surprise; so, leaning across the table,
he touched his daughter's bowl (which was a China
one, with pretty figures all around it), and transmuted
it to gleaming gold.

Meanwhile, Marygold slowly and disconsolately
opened the door, and showed herself with her apron
at her eyes, still sobbing as if her heart would break.

"How now, my little lady!" cried Midas. "Pray
what is the matter writh you, this bright morning ? "

Marygold, without taking the apron from her eyes,
held out her hand, in which was one of the roses which
Midas had so recently transmuted.

'Beautiful!" exclaimed her father. "And what
is there in this magnificent golden rose to make you
cry?"

"Ah, dear father!" answered the child, as well as
her sobs would let her; "it is not beautiful, but the
ugliest flowyer that ever grew7 ! As soon as I was dressed
I ran into the garden to gather some roses for you;
because I know you like them, and like them the better
when gathered by your little daughter. But, oh dear,
dear me ! What do you think has happened ? Such a
misfortune! All the beautiful roses, that smelled so

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THE GOLDEN TOUCH

sweet and had so many lovely blushes, are blighted
and spoilt! They are grown quite yellow, as you see
this one, and have no longer any fragrance! What can
have been the matter with them ? "

' Poh, my dear little girl, - - pray don't cry about it!"
said Midas, who was ashamed to confess that he him-
self had wrought the change which so greatly afflicted
her. " Sit down and eat your bread and milk ! You will
find it easy enough to exchange a golden rose like that
(which will last hundreds of years) for an ordinary one
which would wither in a day."

'I don't care for such roses as this!" cried Marygold,
tossing it contemptuously away. " It has no smell, and
the hard petals prick my nose!"

The child now sat down to table, but was so occupied
with her grief for the blighted roses that she did not
even notice the wonderful transmutation of her China
bowl. Perhaps this was all the better; for Marygold
was accustomed to take pleasure in looking at the
queer figures, and strange trees and houses, that were
painted on the circumference of the bowl; and these
ornaments were now entirely lost in the yellow hue of
the metal.

Midas, meanwhile, had poured out a cup of coffee,
and, as a matter of course, the coffee-pot, whatever
metal it may have been when he took it up, was gold
when he set it down. He thought to himself, that it was
rather an extravagant style of splendor, in a king of his
simple habits, to breakfast off a service of gold, and
began to be puzzled with the difficulty of keeping his
treasures safe. The cupboard and the kitchen would

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STORIES FROM OVID

no longer be a secure place of deposit for articles so
valuable as golden bowls and coffee-pots.

Amid these thoughts, he lifted a spoonful of coffee
to his lips, and, sipping it, was astonished to perceive
that the instant his lips touched the liquid, it became
molten gold, and the next moment, hardened into a
lump!

"Ha!" exclaimed Midas, rather aghast.

" What is the matter, father ? " asked little Marygold,
gazing at him, with the tears still standing in her eyes.

"Nothing, child, nothing!" said Midas. "Eat your
milk, before it gets quite cold."

He took one of the nice little trouts on his plate, and,
by way of experiment, touched its tail with his finger.
To his horror, it was immediately transmuted from an
admirably fried brook trout into a gold-fish, though
not one of those gold-fishes which people often keep
in glass globes, as ornaments for the parlor. No; but
it was really a metallic fish, and looked as if it had been
very cunningly made by the nicest goldsmith in the
world. Its little bones were now golden wires; its fins
and tail were thin plates of gold; and there were the
marks of the fork in it, and all the delicate, frothy ap-
pearance of a nicely fried fish, exactly imitated in metal.
A very pretty piece of work, as you may suppose; only
King Midas, just at that moment, would much rather
have had a real trout in his dish than this elaborate
and valuable imitation of one.

"I don't quite see," thought he to himself, "how I
am to get any breakfast!"

He took one of the smoking-hot cakes, and had

104

THE GOLDEN TOUCH

scarcely broken it, when, to his cruel mortification,
though, a moment before, it had been of the whitest
wheat, it assumed the yellow hue of Indian meal.
To say the truth, if it had really been a hot Indian
cake, Midas would have prized it a good deal more
than he now did, when its solidity and increased weight
made him too bitterly sensible that it was gold. Almost
in despair, he helped himself to a boiled egg, which
immediately underwent a change similar to those of the
trout and the cake. The egg, indeed, might have been
mistaken for one of those which the famous goose,
in the story-book, was in the habit of laying; but King
Midas was the only goose that had had anything to
do with the matter.

"Well, this is a quandary!'1 thought he, leaning
back in his chair, and looking quite enviously at little
Marygold, who was now eating her bread and milk
with great satisfaction. "Such a costly breakfast be-
fore me, and nothing that can be eaten!"

Hoping that, by dint of great dispatch, he might
avoid what he now felt to be a considerable inconve-
nience, King Midas next snatched a hot potato, and
attempted to cram it into his mouth, and swallow it in a
hurry. But the Golden Touch was too nimble for him.
He found his mouth full, not of mealy potato, but of
solid metal, which so burnt his tongue that he roared
aloud, and, jumping up from the table, began to dance
and stamp about the room, both with pain and affright.

"Father, dear father!" cried little Marygold, who
was a very affectionate child, " pray what is the matter ?
Have you burnt your mouth ? "

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STORIES FROM OVID

"Ah, dear child," groaned Midas dolefully, "I don't
know what is to become of your poor father!"

And, truly, my dear little folks, did you ever hear of
such a pitiable case in all your lives ? Here was liter-
ally the richest breakfast that could be set before a
king, and its very richness made it absolutely good
for nothing. The poorest laborer, sitting down to his
crust of bread and cup of water, was far better off
than Kino- Midas, whose delicate food was really worth

o •/

its weight in gold. And what was to be done ? Al-
ready, at breakfast, Midas was excessively hungry.
Would he be less so by dinner-time ? And how rav-
enous would be his appetite for supper, which must
undoubtedly consist of the same sort of indigestible
dishes as those now before him! How many days,
think you, would he survive a continuance of this rich
fare ?

These reflections so troubled wise King Midas, that
he began to doubt whether, after all, riches are the one
desirable thing in the world, or even the most desir-
able. But this was only a passing thought. So fas-
cinated was Midas with the glitter of the yellow metal,
that he would still have refused to give up the Golden
Touch for so paltry a consideration as a breakfast.
Just imagine what a price for one meal's victuals! It
would have been the same as paying millions and mil-
lions of money (and as many millions more as would
take forever to reckon up) for some fried trout, an
egg, a potato, a hot cake, and a cup df coffee!

"It would be quite too dear," thought Midas.

Nevertheless, so great was his hunger, and the per-

106

THE GOLDEN TOUCH

plexity of his situation, that he again groaned aloud,
and very grievously too. Our pretty Marygold could
endure it no longer. She sat, a moment, gazing at
her father, and trying with all the might of her little wits
to find out what was the matter with him. Then,
with a sweet and sorrowful impulse to comfort him, she
started from her chair, and, running to Midas, threw
her arms affectionately about his knees. He bent down
and kissed her. He felt that his little daughter's love
was worth a thousand times more than he had gained
by the Golden Touch.

" My precious, precious Marygold ! " cried he.

But Marygold made no answer.

Alas, what had he done? How fatal was the gift
which the stranger bestowed! The moment the lips
of Midas touched Marygold's forehead, a change had
taken place. Her sweet, rosy face, so full of affection
as it had been, assumed a glittering yellow color, with
yellow teardrops congealing on her cheeks. Her
beautiful brown ringlets took the same tint. Her soft
and tender little form grew hard and inflexible within
her father's encircling arms. Oh, terrible misfortune!
The victim of his insatiable desire for wealth, little
Marygold was a human child no longer, but a golden
statue !

Yes, there she was, with the questioning look of love,
grief, and pity, hardened into her face. It was the
prettiest and most woeful sight that ever mortal saw.
All the features and tokens of Marygold were there;
even the beloved little dimple remained in her golden
chin. But the more perfect was the resemblance, the

107

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greater was the father's agony at beholding this golden
image, which was all that was left him of a daughter.
It had been a favorite phrase of Midas, whenever he
felt particularly fond of the child, to say that she was
worth her weight in gold. And now the phrase had
become literally true. And now, at last, when it was
too late, he felt how infinitely a warm and tender heart,
that loved him, exceeded in value all the wealth that
could be piled up betwixt the earth and sky!

It would be too sad a story, if I were to tell you how
Midas, in the fullness of all his gratified desires, began
to wring his hands and bemoan himself; and how he
could neither bear to look at Marygold, nor yet to look
away from her. Except when his eyes were fixed on
the image, he could not possibly believe that she was
changed to gold. But stealing another glance, there
was the precious little figure, with a yellow tear-drop
on its yellow cheek, and a look so piteous and tender
that it seemed as if that very expression must needs
soften the gold, and make it flesh again. This, how-
ever, could not be. So Midas had only to wring his
hands, and to wish that he were the poorest man in
the wide world, if the loss of all his wealth might bring
back the faintest rose-color to his dear child's face.

While he was in this tumult of despair, he suddenly
beheld a stranger standing near the door. Midas bent
down his head, without speaking; for he recognized
the same figure which had appeared to him, the day
before, in the treasure-room, and had bestowed on him
this disastrous faculty of the Golden Touch. The
stranger's countenance still wore a smile, which seemed

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to shed a yellow lustre all about the room, and gleamed
on little Marygold's image, and on the other objects
that had been transmuted by the touch of Midas.

'Well, friend Midas," said the stranger, "pray how
do you succeed with the Golden Touch?"

v

Midas shook his head.

"I am very miserable," said he.

'Very miserable, indeed!" exclaimed the stranger.
" And how happens that ? Have I not faithfully kept
my promise with you ? Have you not everything that
your heart desired ? "

"Gold is not everything," answered Midas. "And
I have lost all that my heart really cared for."

"Ah! So you have made a discovery, since yester-
day ? " observed the stranger. ' Let us see, then. Which
of these two things do you think is really worth the
most, - - the gift of the Golden Touch, or one cup of
clear cold water ? "

"O blessed water!" exclaimed Midas. " It will
never moisten my parched throat again!"

'The Golden Touch," continued the stranger, "or
a crust of bread ? "

"A piece of bread," answered Midas, "is worth all
the gold on earth!"

'The Golden Touch," asked the stranger, "or your
own little Marygold, warm, soft, and loving as she was
an hour ago ? "

"Oh, my child, my dear child!" cried poor Midas,
wringing his hands. "I would not have given that
one small dimple in her chin for the power of chang-
ing this whole big earth into a solid lump of gold ! "

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STORIES FROM OVID

'You are wiser than you were, King Midas!" said
the stranger, looking seriously at him. " Your own
heart, I perceive, has not been entirely changed from
flesh to gold. Were it so, your case would indeed be
desperate. But you appear to be still capable of under-
standing that the commonest things, such as lie within
everybody's grasp, are more valuable than the riches
which so many mortals sigh and struggle after. Tell
me, now, do you sincerely desire to rid yourself of this
Golden Touch ? "

"It is hateful to me!" replied Midas.

A fly settled on his nose, but immediately fell to the
floor; for it, too, had become gold. Midas shuddered.

"Go, then," said the stranger, "and plunge into the
river that glides past the bottom of your garden. Take
likewise a vase of the same water, and sprinkle it over
any object that you may desire to change back again
from gold into its former substance. If you do this in
earnestness and sincerity, it may possibly repair the
mischief which your avarice has occasioned."

King Midas bowed low; and when he lifted his
head, the lustrous stranger had vanished.

You will easily believe that Midas lost no time in
snatching up a great earthen pitcher (but, alas me!
it was no longer earthen after he touched it), and has-
tening to the riverside. As he scampered along, and
forced his way through the shrubbery, it was positively
marvelous to see how the foliage turned yellow behind
him, as if the autumn had been there, and nowhere else.
On reaching the river's brink, he plunged headlong in,
without waiting so much as to pull off his shoes.

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THE GOLDEN TOUCH

"Poof! poof! poof!" snorted King Midas, as his
head emerged out of the water. 'Well; this is really
a refreshing bath, and I think it must have quite washed
away the Golden Touch. And now for filling my
pitcher ! '

As he dipped the pitcher into the water, it glad-
dened his very heart to see it change from gold into
the same good, honest earthen vessel which it had
been before he touched it. He was conscious, also, of
a change within himself. A. cold, hard, and heavy
weight seemed to have gone out of his bosom. No
doubt his heart had been gradually losing its human
substance, and transmuting itself into insensible metal,
but had now softened back again into flesh. Perceiv-
ing a violet, that grew on the bank of the river, Midas
touched it with his finger, and was overjoyed to find
that the delicate flower retained its purple hue, in-
stead of undergoing a yellow blight. The curse of
the Golden Touch had therefore really been removed
from him.

King Midas hastened back to the palace; and I
suppose the servants knew not what to make of it
when they saw their royal master so carefully bringing
home an earthen pitcher of water. But that water,
which was to undo all the mischief that his folly had
wrought, was more precious to Midas than an ocean of
molten gold could have been. The first thing he did,
as you need hardly be told, was to sprinkle it by hand-
fuls over the golden figure of little Marygold.

No sooner did it fall on her than you would have
laughed to see how the rosy color came back to the

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STORIES FROM OVID

dear child's cheek! and how she began to sneeze and
sputter ! - - and how astonished she was to find her-
self dripping wet, and her father still throwing more
water over her!

'Pray do not, dear father!" cried she. "See how
you have wet my nice frock, which I put on only this
morning!"

For Marygold did not know that she had been a
little golden statue; nor could she remember anything
that had happened since the moment when she ran
with outstretched arms to comfort poor King Midas.

Her father did not think it necessary to tell his be-
loved child how very foolish he had been, but contented
himself with showing how much wiser he had now
grown. For this purpose he led little Marygold into
the garden, where he sprinkled all the remainder of the
water over the rose-bushes, and with such good effect
that above five thousand roses recovered their beautiful
bloom. There were two circumstances, however, which,
as long as he lived, used to put King Midas in mind
of the Golden Touch. One was, that the sands of the
river sparkled like gold; the other, that little Mary-
gold's hair had now a golden tinge, which he had never
observed in it before she had been transmuted by the
effect of his kiss. This change of hue was really an
improvement, and made Marygold's hair richer than
in her babyhood.

When King Midas had grown quite an old man, and
used to trot Marygold's children on his knee, he was
fond of telling them this marvelous story, pretty much
as I have now told it to you. And then would he stroke

112

THE GOLDEN TOUCH

their glossy ringlets, and tell them that their hair,
likewise, had a rich shade of gold, which they had in-
herited from their mother.

"And to tell you the truth, my precious little folks,"
quoth King Midas, diligently trotting the children all
the while, "ever since that morning, I have hated the
very sight of all other gold, save this! '

THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

By Nathaniel Hawthorne

MOTHER CERES was exceedingly fond of her
daughter Proserpina, and seldom let her go alone
into the fields. But, just at the time when my story be-
gins, the good lady was very busy, because she had the
care of the wheat, and the Indian corn, and the rye and
barley, and, in short, of the crops of every kind, all
over the earth; and as the season had thus far been
uncommonly backward, it was necessary to make the
harvest ripen more speedily than usual. So she put
on her turban, made of poppies (a kind of flower
which she was always noted for wearing), and got
into her car drawn by a pair of winged dragons, and
was just ready to set off.

"Dear mother," said Proserpina, 'I shall be very
lonely while you are away. May I not run down to
the shore, and ask some of the sea-nymphs to come
up out of the waves and play with me ? "

"Yes, child," answered Mother Ceres. 'The sea-
nymphs are good creatures, and will never lead you
into any harm. But you must take care not to stray
away from them, nor go wandering about the fields by
yourself. Young girls, without their mothers to take
care of them, are very apt to get into mischief."

The child promised to be as prudent as if she were

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THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

a grown-up woman, and, by the time the winged drag-
ons had whirled the car out of sight, she was already
on the shore, calling to the sea-nymphs to come and
play with her. They knew Proserpina's voice, and
were not long in showing their glistening faces and sea-
green hair above the water, at the bottom of which
was their home. They brought along with them a
great many beautiful shells; and, sitting down on the
moist sand, where the surf wave broke over them, they
busied themselves in making a necklace, which they
hung round Proserpina's neck. By way of showing
her gratitude, the child besought them to go with her
a little way into the fields, so that they might gather
abundance of flowers, with which she would make each
of her kind playmates a wreath.

"Oh, no, dear Proserpina," cried the sea-nymphs;
"we dare not go with you upon the dry land. We
are apt to grow faint, unless at every breath we can
snuff up the salt breeze of the ocean. And don't you
see how careful we are to let the surf wave break over
us every moment or two, so as to keep ourselves com-
fortably moist ? If it were not for that, we should
soon look like bunches of uprooted sea-weed dried in
the sun."

"It is a great pity," said Proserpina, "but do you
wait for me here, and I will run and gather my apron
full of flowers, and be back again before the surf wave
has broken ten times over you. I long to make you
some wreaths that shall be as lovely as this necklace
of many-celored shells."

"We will wait, then," answered the sea-nymphs.

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STORIES FROM OVID

" But while you are gone, we may as well lie down
on a bank of soft sponge, under the water. The air
to-day is a little too dry for our comfort. But we will
pop up our heads every few minutes to see if you are
coming."

The young Proserpina ran quickly to a spot where,
only the day before, she had seen a great many flow-
ers. These, however, wrere now a little past their
bloom; and wishing to give her friends the freshest
and loveliest blossoms, she strayed farther into the
fields, and found some that made her scream with de-
light. Never had she met with such exquisite flowers
before, - - violets, so large and fragrant, - - roses, with
so rich and delicate a blush, - - such superb hyacinths
and such aromatic pinks, - - and many others, some of
which seemed to be of new shapes and colors. Two
or three times, moreover, she could not help thinking
that a tuft of most splendid flowers had suddenly
sprouted out of the earth before her very eyes, as if
on purpose to tempt her a few steps farther. Proser-
pina's apron was soon filled and brimming over with
delightful blossoms. She was on the point of turning
back in order to rejoin the sea-nymphs, and sit with
them on the moist sands, all twining wreaths together.
But, a little farther on, what should she behold? It
was a large shrub, completely covered with the most
magnificent flowers in the world.

'The darlings!" cried Proserpina; and then she
thought to herself, "I was looking at that spot only
a moment ago. How strange it is that I did not see
the flowers!"

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THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

The nearer she approached the shrub, the more at-
tractive it looked, until she came quite close to it; and
then, although its beauty was richer than words can
tell, she hardly knew whether to like it or not. It bore
above a hundred flowers of the most brilliant hues,
and each different from the others, but all having a
kind of resemblance among themselves, which showed
them to be sister blossoms. But there was a deep,
glossy lustre on the leaves of the shrub, and on the
petals of the flowers, that made Proserpina doubt
whether they might not be poisonous. To tell you the
truth, foolish as it may seem, she was half inclined to
turn round and run away.

'What a silly child I am!" thought she, taking
courage. 'It is really the most beautiful shrub that
ever sprang out of the earth. I will pull it up by the
roots, and carry it home, and plant it in my mother's
garden."

Holding up her apron full of flowers with her left
hand, Proserpina seized the large shrub with the other,
and pulled and pulled, but was hardly able to loosen
the soil about its roots. What a deep-rooted plant it
was! Again the girl pulled with all her might, and
observed that the earth began to stir and crack to
some distance around the stem. She gave another
pull, but relaxed her hold, fancying that there was a
rumbling sound right beneath her feet. Did the roots
extend down into some enchanted cavern ? Then,
laughing at herself for so childish a notion, she made
another effort; up came the shrub, and Proserpina
staggered back, holding the stem triumphantly in her

117

STORIES FROM OVID

hand, and gazing at the deep hole which its roots had
left in the soil.

Much to her astonishment this hole kept spreading
wider and wider, and growing deeper and deeper, until
it really seemed to have no bottom; and all the while,
there came a rumbling noise out of its depths, louder
and louder, and nearer and nearer, and sounding like
the tramp of horses' hoofs and the rattling of wheels.
Too much frightened to run away, she stood straining

v * O

her eyes into this wonderful cavity, and soon saw a
team of four sable horses, snorting smoke out of their
nostrils, and tearing their way out of the earth with a
splendid golden chariot whirling at their heels. They
leaped out of the bottomless hole, chariot and all; and
there they were, tossing their black manes, flourishing
their black tails, and curvetting with every one of
their hoofs off the ground at once, close by the spot
where Proserpina stood. In the chariot sat the figure
of a man, richly dressed, with a crown on his head, all
flaming with diamonds. He was of a noble aspect,
and rather handsome, but looked sullen and discon-
tented; and he kept rubbing his eyes and shading
them with his hand, as if he did not live enough in
the sunshine to be very fond of its light.

As soon as this personage saw the affrighted Pro-
serpina, he beckoned her to come a little nearer.

'Do not be afraid," said he, with as cheerful a
smile as he knew how to put on. "Come! Will not
you like to ride a little way with me, in my beautiful
chariot ? "

But Proserpina was so alarmed that she wished for

118

THEY LEAPED OFT OF THE BOTTOMLESS HOLE, CHARIOT AND
ALL; AND THERE THEY WERE TOSSING THEIR BLACK TAILS,
AND CURVETTING WITH EVERY ONE OF THEIR HOOFS OFF
THE GROUND AT ONCE, CLOSE BY THE SPOT WHERE PRO-
SERPINA STOOD. IN THE CHARIOT SAT THE FIGURE OF A MAN

THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

nothing but to get out of his reach. And no wonder.
The stranger did not look remarkably good-natured, in
spite of his smile; and as for his voice, its tones were
deep and stern, and sounded as much like the rumbling
of an earthquake under ground as anything else. As
is always the case with children in trouble, Proser-
pina's first thought was to call for her mother.

"Mother, Mother Ceres!" cried she, all in a trem-
ble. " Come quickly and save me."

But her voice was too faint for her mother to hear.
Indeed, it is most probable that Ceres was then a thou-
sand miles off, making the corn grow in some far-
distant country. Nor could it have availed her poor
daughter, even had she been within hearing; for no
sooner did Proserpina begin to cry out, than the stran-
ger leaped to the ground, caught the child in his arms,
and again mounting the chariot, shook the reins,
and shouted to the four black horses to set off. They
immediately broke into so swift a gallop that it seemed
rather like flying through the air than running along
the earth. In a moment, Proserpina lost sight of the
pleasant vale of Enna, in which she had always dwelt.
Another instant, and even the summit of Mount .Etna
had become so blue in the distance that she could
scarcely distinguish it from the smoke that gushed out
of its crater. But still the poor child screamed, and
scattered her apron full of flowers along the way, and
left a long cry trailing behind the chariot; and many
mothers, to whose ears it came, ran quickly to see if
any mischief had befallen their children. But Mother
Ceres was a great way off, and could not hear the cry.

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STORIES FROM OVID

As they rode on, the stranger did his best to soothe

her.

" Why should you be so frightened, my pretty child ? "
said he, trying to soften his rough voice. 'I promise
not to do you any harm. What ! You have been gath-
ering flowers ? Wait till we come to my palace, and
I will give you a garden full of prettier flowers than
those, all made of pearls, and diamonds, and rubies.
Can you guess who I am ? They call my name Pluto,
and I am the king of diamonds and all other precious
stones. Every atom of the gold and silver that lies
under the earth belongs to me, to say nothing of the
copper and iron, and of the coal-mines, which supply
me with abundance of fuel. Do you see this splendid
crown upon my head ? You may have it for a play-
thing. Oh, we shall be very good friends, and you will
find me more agreeable than you expect, when once we
get out of this troublesome sunshine."

" Let me go home ! " cried Proserpina. " Let me go

home ! "

" My home is better than your mother's," answered
King Pluto "It is a palace, all made of gold, with
crystal windows; and because there is little or no
sunshine thereabouts, the apartments are illuminated
with diamond lamps. You never saw anything half
so magnificent as my throne. If you like, you may sit
down on it, and be my little queen, and I will sit on the
footstool."

"I don't care for golden palaces and thrones,"
sobbed Proserpina. "Oh, my mother, my mother!
Carry me back to my mother!"

120

THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

But King Pluto, as he called himself, only shouted
to his steeds to go faster.

"Pray do not be foolish, Proserpina," said he, in
rather a sullen tone. " I offer you my palace and my
crown, and all the riches that are under the earth;
and you treat me as if I were doing you an injury.
The one thing which my palace needs is a merry little
maid, to run upstairs and down, and cheer up the
rooms with her smile. And this is what you must do
for King Pluto."

"Never!" answered Proserpina, looking as miser-
able as she could. "I shall never smile again till you
set me down at my mother's door."

But she might just as well have talked to the wind
that whistled past them; for Pluto urged on his horses,
and went faster than ever. Proserpina continued to
cry out, and screamed so long and so loudly, that her
poor little voice was almost screamed away; and
when it was nothing but a whisper, she happened to
cast her eyes over a great, broad field of waving grain
— and whom do you think she saw ? Who, but Mother
Ceres, making the corn grow, and too busy to notice
the golden chariot as it went rattling along. The child
mustered all her strength, and gave one more scream,
but was out of sight before Ceres had time to turn her
head.

King Pluto had taken a road which now began to
grow excessively gloomy. It was bordered on each
side with rocks and precipices, between which the
rumbling of the chariot-wheels was reverberated with
a noise like rolling thunder. The trees and bushes

121

STORIES FROM OVID

that grew in the crevices of the rocks had very dismal
foliage; and by and by, although it was hardly noon,
the air became obscured with a gray twilight. The
black horses had rushed along so swiftly, that they
were already beyond the limits of the sunshine. But
the duskier it grew, the more did Pluto's visage as-
sume an air of satisfaction. After all, he was not an
ill-looking person, especially when he left off twisting
his features into a smile that did not belong to them.
Proserpina peeped at his face through the gathering
dusk, and hoped that he might not be so very wicked
as she at first thought him.

"Ah, this twilight is truly refreshing," said King
Pluto, " after being so tormented with that ugly and
impertinent glare of the sun. How much more agree-
able is lamplight or torchlight, more particularly when
reflected from diamonds! It will be a magnificent
sight when we get to my palace."

"Is it much farther?" asked Proserpina. "And
will you carry me back when I have seen it ? "

"We will talk of that by and by," answered Pluto.
"We are just entering my dominions. Do you see
that tall gateway before us ? When we pass those
gates, we are at home. And there lies my faithful
mastiff at the threshold. Cerberus! Cerberus! Come
hither, my good dog!"

So saying, Pluto pulled at the reins, and stopped
the chariot right between the tall, massive pillars of
the gateway. The mastiff of which he had spoken got
up from the threshold, and stood on his hinder legs,
so as to put his forepaws on the chariot-wheel. But,

122

THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

my stars, what a strange dog it was! Why, he was a
big, rough, ugly-looking monster, with three separate
heads, and each of them fiercer than the two others;
but, fierce as they were, King Pluto patted them all.
He seemed as fond of his three-headed dog as if it had
been a sweet little spaniel, with silken ears and curly
hair. Cerberus, on the other hand, was evidently re-
joiced to see his master, and expressed his attachment,
as other dogs do, by wagging his tail at a great rate.
Proserpina's eyes being drawn to it by its brisk mo-
tion, she saw that this tail was neither more nor less
than a live dragon, with fiery eyes, and fangs that had
a very poisonous aspect. And while the three-headed
Cerberus was fawning so lovingly on King Pluto, there
was the dragon tail wagging against its will, and look-
ing as cross and ill-natured as you can imagine, on its
own separate account.

"Will the dog bite me?" asked Proserpina, shrink-
ing closer to Pluto. "What an ugly creature he is!"

"Oh, never fear," answered her companion. "He
never harms people unless they try to enter my do-
minions without being sent for, or to get away when I
wish to keep them here. Down, Cerberus ! Now, my
pretty Proserpina, we will drive on."

On went the chariot, and King Pluto seemed greatly
pleased to find himself once more in his own kingdom.
He drew Proserpina's attention to the rich veins of
gold that were to be seen among the rocks, and pointed
to several places where one stroke of a pick-axe would
loosen a bushel of diamonds. All along the road, in-
deed, there were sparkling gems, which would have

123

STORIES FROM OVID

been of inestimable value above ground, but which
were here reckoned of the meaner sort, and hardly
worth a beggar's stooping for.

Not far from the gateway, they came to a bridge,
which seemed to be built of iron. Pluto stopped the
chariot, and bade Proserpina look at the stream which
was gliding so lazily beneath it. Never in her life
had she beheld so torpid, so black, so muddy-looking
a stream: its waters reflected no images of anything
that was on the banks, and it moved as sluggishly as
if it had quite forgotten which way it ought to flow,
and had rather stagnate than flow either one way or
the other.

"This is the river Lethe," observed King Pluto.
" Is it not a very pleasant stream ? "

"I think it a very dismal one," said Proserpina.

"It suits my taste, however," answered Pluto, who
was apt to be sullen when anybody disagreed with
him. "At all events, its water has one very excellent
quality; for a single draught of it makes people for-
get every care and sorrow that has hitherto tormented
them. Only sip a little of it, my dear Proserpina, and
you will instantly cease to grieve for your mother, and
will have nothing in your memory that can prevent
your being perfectly happy in my palace. I will send
for some, in a golden goblet, the moment we arrive."

"Oh, no, no, no!" cried Proserpina, weeping afresh.
"I had a thousand times rather be miserable with re-
membering my mother than be happy in forgetting her.
That dear, dear mother ! I never, never will forget her."

"We shall see," said King Pluto. "You do not

124

THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

know what fine times we will have in my palace. Here
we are just at the portal. These pillars are solid gold,
I assure you."

He alighted from the chariot, and taking Proserpina
in his arms, carried her up a lofty flight of steps into
the great hall of the palace. It was splendidly illu-
minated by means of large precious stones, of various
hues, which seemed to burn like so many lamps, and
glowed with a hundred-fold radiance all through the
vast apartment. And yet there was a kind of gloom
in the midst of this enchanted light; nor was there a
single object in the hall that was really agreeable to
behold, except the little Proserpina herself, a lovely
child, with one earthly flower which she had not let
fall from her hand. It is my opinion that even King
Pluto had never been happy in his palace, and that
this was the true reason why he had stolen away Pro-
serpina, in order that he might have something to love,
instead of cheating his heart any longer with this tire-
some magnificence. And, though he pretended to dis-
like the sunshine of the upper world, yet the effect
of the child's presence, bedimmed as she was by her
tears, was as if a faint and watery sunbeam had some-
how or other found its way into the enchanted hall.

Pluto now summoned his domestics, and bade them
lose no time in preparing a most sumptuous banquet,
and above all things, not to fail of setting a golden
beaker of the water of Lethe by Proserpina's plate.

;'I will neither drink that nor anything else," said
Proserpina. "Nor will I taste a morsel of food, even
if you keep me forever in your palace."

125

STORIES FROM OVID

"I should be sorry for that," replied King Pluto,
patting her cheek; for he really wished to be kind, if
he had only known how. "You are a spoiled child, I
perceive, my little Proserpina; but when you see the
nice things which my cook will make for you, your
appetite will quickly come again."

Then, sending for the head cook, he gave strict or-
ders that all sorts of delicacies, such as young people
are usually fond of, should be set before Proserpina.
He had a secret motive in this; for, you are to under-
stand, it is a fixed law that, when persons are carried
off to the land of magic, if they once taste any food
there, they can never get back to their friends. Now,
if King Pluto had been cunning enough to offer Pro-
serpina some fruit, or bread and milk (which was the
simple fare to which the child had always been accus-
tomed), it is very probable that she would soon have
been tempted to eat it. But he left the matter entirely
to his cook, who, like all other cooks, considered no-
thing fit to eat unless it were rich pastry, or highly
seasoned meat, or spiced sweet cakes, — things Avhich
Proserpina's mother had never given her, and the
smell of which quite took away her appetite, instead
of sharpening it.

But my story must now clamber out of King Pluto's
dominions, and see what Mother Ceres has been about,
since she was bereft of her daughter. We had a glimpse
of her, as you remember, half hidden among the wav-
ing grain, while the four black steeds were swiftly
whirling along the chariot in which her beloved Pro-
serpina was so unwillingly borne away. You recollect,

126

THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

too, the loud scream which Proserpina gave, just when
the chariot was out of sight.

Of all the child's outcries, this last shriek was the
only one that reached the ears of Mother Ceres. She

«/

had mistaken the rumbling of the chariot-wheels for a
peal of thunder, and imagined that a shower was com-
ing up, and that it would assist her in making the
corn grow. But, at the sound of Proserpina's shriek,
she started, and looked about in every direction, not
knowing whence it came, but feeling almost certain
that it was her daughter's voice. It seemed so unac-
countable, however, that the girl should have strayed
over so many lands and seas (which she herself could
not have traversed without the aid of her winged drag-
ons), that the good Ceres tried to believe that it must
be the child of some other parent, and not her own
darling Proserpina, who had uttered this lamentable
cry. Nevertheless, it troubled her with a vast many
tender fears, such as are ready to bestir themselves in
every mother's heart, when she finds it necessary to
go away from her dear children without leaving them
under the care of some maiden aunt, or other such
faithful guardian. So she quickly left the field in which
she had been so busy; and, as her work was not half
done, the grain looked, next day, as if it needed both
sun and rain, and as if it were blighted in the ear,
and had something the matter with its roots.

The pair of dragons must have had very nimble
wings; for, in less than an hour, Mother Ceres had
alighted at the door of her home, and found it empty.
Knowing, however, that the child was fond of sporting

127

STORIES FROM OVID

on the seashore, she hastened thither as fast as she
could, and there beheld the wet faces of the poor sea-
nymphs peeping over a wave. All this while, the good
creatures had been waiting on the bank of sponge, and
once every half-minute or so, had popped up their four
heads above water, to see if their playmate were yet
coming back. When they saw Mother Ceres, they sat
down on the crest of the surf wave, and let it toss them
ashore at her feet.

"Where is Proserpina?" cried Ceres. "Where is
my child? Tell me, you naughty sea-nymphs, have
you enticed her under the sea ? "

" Oh, no, good Mother Ceres," said the innocent sea-
nymphs, tossing back their green ringlets, and looking
her in the face. "WTe never should dream of such a
thing. Proserpina has been at play with us, it is true;
but she left us a long while ago, meaning only to run
a little way upon the dry land, and gather some flowers
for a wreath. This was early in the day, and we have
seen nothing of her since."

Ceres scarcely waited to hear what the nymphs had
to say, before she hurried off to make inquiries all
through the neighborhood. But nobody told her any-
thing that could enable the poor mother to guess what
had become of Proserpina. A fisherman, it is true,
had noticed her little footprints in the sand, as he went
homeward along the beach with a basket of fish; a
rustic had seen the child stooping to gather flowers;
several persons had heard either the rattling of chariot-
wheels or the rumbling of distant thunder; and one
old woman, while plucking vervain and catnip, had

128

THE POMEGRANATE- SEEDS

heard a scream, but supposed it to be some childish
nonsense, and therefore did not take the trouble to
look up. The stupid people! It took them such a
tedious while to tell the nothing that they knew, that
it was dark night before Mother Ceres found out that
she must seek her daughter elsewhere. So she lighted
a torch, and set forth, resolving never to come back
until Proserpina was discovered.

In her haste and trouble of mind, she quite forgot
her car and the winged dragons; or, it may be, she
thought that she could follow up the search more
thoroughly on foot. At all events, this was the way
in which she began her sorrowful journey, holding her
torch before her, and looking carefully at every object
along the path. And as it happened, she had not gone
far before she found one of the magnificent flowers
which grew on the shrub that Proserpina had pulled
up.

"Ha!" thought Mother Ceres, examining it by
torchlight. "Here is mischief in this flower! The
earth did not produce it by any help of mine, nor of
its own accord. It is the work of enchantment, and
is therefore poisonous; and perhaps it has poisoned
my poor child."

But she put the poisonous flower in her bosom, not
knowing whether she might ever find any other memo-
rial of Proserpina.

All night long, at the door of every cottage and
farmhouse, Ceres knocked, and called up the weary
laborers to inquire if they had seen her child; and
they stood, gaping and half asleep, at the threshold,

129

STORIES FROM OVID

and answered her pityingly, and besought her to come
in and rest. At the portal of every palace, too, she
made so loud a summons that the menials hurried to
throw open the gate, thinking that it must be some
great king or queen, who would demand a banquet for
supper and a stately chamber to repose in. And when
they saw only a sad and anxious woman, with a torch
in her hand and a wreath of withered poppies on her
head, they spoke rudely, and sometimes threatened to
set the dogs upon her. But nobody had seen Proserpina,
nor could give Mother Ceres the least hint which way
to seek her. Thus passed the night; and still she con-
tinued her search without sitting down to rest, or stop-
ping to take food, or even remembering to put down
the torch; although first the rosy dawn, and then the
glad light of the morning sun, made its red flame look
thin and pale. But I wonder what sort of stuff this
torch was made of; for it burned dimly through the
day, and at night was as bright as ever, and never
was extinguished by the rain or wind, in all the weary
days and nights while Ceres was seeking for Proser-
pina.

It was not merely of human beings that she asked
tidings of her daughter. In the woods and by the
streams, she met creatures of another nature, who
used, in those old times, to haunt the pleasant and
solitary places, and were very sociable with persons
who understood their language and customs, as Mother
Ceres did. Sometimes, for instance, she tapped with
her finger against the knotted trunk of a majestic oak;
and immediately its rude bark would cleave asunder,

130

THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

and forth would step a beautiful maiden, who was the
hamadryad of the oak, dwelling inside of it, and shar-
ing its long life, and rejoicing when its green leaves
sported with the breeze. But not one of these leafy
damsels had seen Proserpina. Then, going a little
farther, Ceres would, perhaps, come to a fountain,
gushing out of a pebbly hollow in the earth, and would
dabble with her hand in the water. Behold, up through
its sandy and pebbly bed, along with the fountain's
gush, a young woman with dripping hair would arise,
and stand gazing at Mother Ceres, half out of the
water, and undulating up and down with its ever-
restless motion. But when the mother asked whether
her poor lost child had stopped to drink out of the
fountain, the naiad, with weeping eyes (for these water-
nymphs had tears to spare for everybody's grief),
would answer, :'No!" in a murmuring voice, which
was just like the murmur of the stream.

Often, likewise, she encountered fauns, who looked
like sunburnt country people, except that they had
hairy ears, and little horns upon their foreheads, and
the hinder legs of goats, on which they gamboled mer-
rily about the woods and fields. They were a frolic-
some kind of creature, but grew as sad as their cheer-
ful dispositions would allow when Ceres inquired for
her daughter, and they had no good news to tell. But
sometimes she came suddenly upon a rude gang of
satyrs, who had faces like monkeys and horses' tails
behind them, and who were generally dancing in a
very boisterous manner, with shouts of noisy laughter.
When she stopped to question them, they would only

131

STORIES FROM OVID

laugh the louder, and make new merriment out of the
lone woman's distress. How unkind of those ugly
satyrs! And once, while crossing a solitary sheep
pasture, she saw a personage named Pan, seated at
the foot of a tall rock, and making music on a shep-
herd's flute. He, too, had horns, and hairy ears, and
goat's feet; but, being acquainted with Mother Ceres,
he answered her question as civilly as he knew how,
and invited her to taste some milk and honey out of
a wooden bowl. But neither could Pan tell her wrhat
had become of Proserpina, any better than the rest
of these wild people.

And thus Mother Ceres went wandering about for
nine long d#ys and nights, rinding no trace of Proser-
pina, unless it were now and then a withered flower;
and these she picked up and put, in her bosom, because
she fancied that they might have fallen from her poor
child's hand. All day she traveled onward through
the hot sun; and at night, again, the flame of the
torch would redden and gleam along the pathway, and
she continued her search by its light, without ever sit-
ting down to rest.

On the tenth day, she chanced to espy the mouth of
a cavern, within which (though it was bright noon
everywhere else) there would have been only a dusky
twilight; but it so happened that a torch was burn-
ing there. It flickered and struggled with the duski-
ness, but could not half light up the gloomy cavern
with all its melancholy glimmer. Ceres was resolved
to leave no spot without a search; so she peeped into
the entrance of the cave, and lighted it up a little more

132

THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

by holding her own torch before her. In so doing, she
caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a woman, sit-
ting on the brown leaves of the last autumn, a great
heap of which had been swept into the cave by the wind.
This wcman (if woman it were) was by no means so
beautiful as many of her sex; for her head, they tell
me, was shaped very much like a dog's, and, by way
of ornament, she wore a wreath of snakes around it.
But Mother Ceres, the moment she saw her, knew that
this was an odd kind of a person, who put all her en-
joyment in being miserable, and never would have a
word to say to other people, unless they were as melan-
choly and wretched as she herself delighted to be.

"I am wretched enough now," thought poor Ceres,
:'to talk with this melancholy Hecate, were she ten
times sadder than ever she was yet."

So she stepped into the cave, and sat down on the
withered leaves by the dog-headed woman's side. In
all the world, since her daughter's loss, she had found
no other companion.

" O Hecate," said she, " if ever you lose a daughter,
you will know what sorrow is. Tell me, for pity's
sake, have you seen my poor child Proserpina pass by
the mouth of your cavern ? "

:'No," answered Hecate, in a cracked voice, and
sighing betwixt every word or two, - - " no, Mother
Ceres, I have seen nothing of your daughter. But my
ears, you must know, are made in such a way that all
cries of distress and affright, all over the world, are
pretty sure to find their way to them; and nine days
ago, as I sat in my cave, making myself very miser-

133

STORIES FROM OVID

able, I heard the voice of a young girl, shrieking as if
in great distress. Something terrible has happened to
the child, you may rest assured. As well as I could
judge, a dragon, or some other cruel monster, was
carrying her away."

'You kill me by saying so," cried Ceres, almost
ready to faint. 'Where was the sound, and which
way did it seem to go ? "

;'It passed very swiftly along," said Hecate, "and,
at the same time, there was a heavy rumbling of wheels

V ^J

towards the eastward. I can tell you nothing more,
except that, in my honest opinion, you will never see
your daughter again. The best advice I can give you
is to take up your abode in this cavern, where we will
be the two most wretched women in the world."

"Not yet, dark Hecate," replied Ceres. "But do
you first come with your torch, and help me to seek
for my lost child. And when there shall be no more
hope of finding her (if that black day is ordained to
come), then, if you will give me room to fling myself
down, either on these withered leaves or on the naked
rock, I will show you what it is to be miserable. But
until I know that she has perished from the face of the
earth, I will not allow myself space even to grieve."

The dismal Hecate did not much like the idea of
going abroad into the sunny world. But then she re-
flected that the sorrow of the disconsolate Ceres would
be like a gloomy twilight round about them both, let
the sun shine ever so brightly, and that therefore she
might enjoy her bad spirits quite as well as if she were
to stay in the cave. So she finally consented to go,

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and they set out together, both carrying torches, al-
though it was broad daylight and clear sunshine.
The torchlight seemed to make a gloom; so that the
people whom they met along the road could not very
distinctly see their figures; and, indeed, if they once
caught a glimpse of Hecate, with the wreath of snakes
round her forehead, they generally thought it prudent
to run away, without waiting for a second glance.

As the pair traveled along in this woebegone man-
ner, a thought struck Ceres.

"There is one person," she exclaimed, ;'who must
have seen my poor child, and can doubtless tell what
has become of her. Why did not I think of him be-
fore ? It is Phcebus."

" What," said Hecate, " the young man that always sits
in the sunshine ? Oh, pray do not think of going near
him. He is a gay, light, frivolous young fellow, and will
only smile in your face. And besides, there is such a
glare of the sun about him, that he will quite blind my
poor eyes, which I have almost wept away already."

" You have promised to be my companion," answered
Ceres. "Come, let us make haste, or the sunshine
will be gone, and Phcebus along with it."

Accordingly, they went along in quest of Phcebus,
both of them, sighing grievously, and Hecate, to say
the truth, making a great deal worse lamentation than
Ceres; for all the pleasure she had, you know, lay in
being miserable, and therefore she made the most of
it. By and by, after a pretty long journey, they ar-
rived at the sunniest spot in the whole world. There
they beheld a beautiful young man, with long, curl-

135

STORIES FROM OVID

ing ringlets, which seemed to be made of golden sun-
beams; his garments were like light summer clouds;
and the expression of his face was so exceedingly vivid,
that Hecate held her hands before her eyes, muttering
that he ought to wear a black veil. Phcebus (for this
was the very person whom they were seeking) had a
Ivre in his hands, and was making its chords tremble

v O

with sweet music; at the same time singing a most
exquisite song, which he had recently composed. For
besides a great many other accomplishments, this
young man was renowned for his admirable poetry.

As Ceres and her dismal companion approached
him, Phcebus smiled on them so cheerfully that Hec-
ate's wreath of snakes gave a spiteful hiss, and Hec-
ate heartily wished herself back in her cave. But as
for Ceres, she was too earnest in her grief either to
know or care whether Phcebus smiled or frowned.

"Phcebus!" exclaimed she, "I am in great trouble,
and have come to you for assistance. Can you tell me
what has become of my dear child Proserpina?"

" Proserpina ! Proserpina, did you call her name ? "
answered Phcebus, endeavoring to recollect; for there
was such a continual flow of pleasant ideas in his mind
that he was apt to forget what had happened no longer
ago than yesterday. "Ah, yes, I remember her now.
A very lovely child, indeed. I am happy to tell you,
my dear madam, that I did see the little Proserpina
not many days ago. You may make yourself perfectly
easy about her. She is safe, and in excellent hands."

" Oh, where is my dear child ? " cried Ceres, clasp-
ing her hands and flinging herself at his feet.

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THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

"Why," said Phoebus,- -and as he spoke, he kept
touching his lyre so as to make a thread of music run
in and out among his words, - " as the little damsel
was gathering flowers (and she has really a very ex-
quisite taste for flowers) she was suddenly snatched
up by King Pluto, and carried off to his dominions.
I have never been in that part of the universe; but
the royal palace, I am told, is built in a very noble
style of architecture, and of the most splendid and
costly materials. Gold, diamonds, pearls, and all man-
ner of precious stones will be your daughter's ordi-
nary playthings. I recommend to you, my dear lady,
to give yourself no uneasiness. Proserpina's sense of
beauty will be duly gratified, and, even in spite of the
lack of sunshine, she will lead a very enviable life."

"Hush! Say not such a word!" answered Ceres
indignantly. " What is there to gratify her heart ? What
are all the splendors you speak of, without affection ?
I must have her back again. Will you go with me,
Phcebus, to demand my daughter of this wicked Pluto ? "

"Pray excuse me," replied Phoebus, with an ele-
gant obeisance. " I certainly wish you success, and
regret that my own affairs are so immediately press-
ing that I cannot have the pleasure of attending you.
Besides, I am not upon the best of terms with King
Pluto. To tell you the truth, his three-headed mastiff
would never let me pass the gateway; for I should be
compelled to take a sheaf of sunbeams along with me,
and those, you know, are forbidden things in Pluto's
kingdom."

"Ah, Phcebus," said Ceres, with bitter meaning in

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STORIES FROM OVID

her words, " you have a harp instead of a heart. Fare-
well."

'Will not you stay a moment," asked Phoebus,
"and hear me turn the pretty and touching story of
Proserpina into extemporary verses ? "

But Ceres shook her head, and hastened awav,

*/ '

along with Hecate. Phcebus (who, as I have told you,
was an exquisite poet) forthwith began to make an
ode about the poor mother's grief; and, if we were to
judge of his sensibility by this beautiful production,
he must have been endowed with a very tender heart.
But when a poet gets into the habit of using his heart-
strings to make chords for his lyre, he may thrum
upon them as much as he will, without any great pain
to himself. Accordingly, though Phcebus sang a very
sad song, he was as merry all the while as were the
sunbeams amid which he dwelt.

Poor Mother Ceres had now found out what had be-
come of her daughter, but was not a whit happier than
before. Her case, on the contrary, looked more des-
perate than ever. As long as Proserpina was above
ground there might have been hopes of regaining her.
But now that the poor child was shut up within the
iron gates of the king of the mines, at the threshold
of which lay the three-headed Cerberus, there seemed
no possibility of her ever making her escape. The
dismal Hecate, who loved to take the darkest view of
things, told Ceres that she had better come with her
to the cavern, and spend the rest of her life in being
miserable. Ceres answered that Hecate was welcome
to go back thither herself, but that, for her part, she

138

THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

would wander about the earth in quest of the entrance
to Kino; Pluto's dominions. And Hecate took her at

o

her word, and hurried back to her beloved cave, frighten-
ing a great many little children with a glimpse of her
dog's face, as she went.

Poor Mother Ceres! It is melancholy to think of
her, pursuing her toilsome way all alone, and holding
up that never-dying torch, the flame of which seemed
an emblem of the grief and hope that burned together
in her heart. So much did she suffer, that, though
her aspect had been quite youthful when her troubles
began, she grew to look like an elderly person in a
very brief time. She cared not how she was dressed,
nor had she ever thought of flinging away the wreath
of withered poppies, which she put on the very morn-
ing of Proserpina's disappearance. She roamed about
in so wild a way, and with her hair so dishevelled,
that people took her for some distracted creature, and
never dreamed that this was Mother Ceres, who had
the oversight of every seed which the husbandman
planted. Nowadays, however, she gave herself no
trouble about seed-time nor harvest, but left the far-
mers to take care of their own affairs, and the crops
to fade or flourish, as the case might be. There was
nothing, now, in which Ceres seemed to feel an in-
terest, unless when she saw children at play or gath-
ering flowers along the wayside. Then, indeed, she
would stand and gaze at them with tears in her eyes.
The children, too, appeared to have a sympathy with
her grief, and would cluster themselves in a little group
about her knees, and look up wistfully in her face;

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STORIES FROM OVID

and Ceres, after giving them a kiss all around, would
lead them to their homes, and advise their mothers
never to let them stray out of sight.

"For if you do," said she, "it may happen to you,
as it has to me, that the iron-hearted King Pluto will
take a liking to your darlings, and snatch them ,up in
his chariot, and carry them away."

One day, during her pilgrimage in quest of the en-
trance to Pluto's kingdom, she came to the palace of
King Celeus, who reigned at Eleusis. Ascending a
lofty flight of steps, she entered the portal, and found
the royal household in very great alarm about the
queen's baby. The infant, it seems, was sickly (being
troubled with its teeth, I suppose), and would take no
food, and was all the time moaning with pain. The
queen - - her name was Metanira — was desirous of
finding a nurse; and when she beheld a woman of
matronly aspect coming up the palace steps, she
thought, in her own mind that here was the very per-
son whom she needed. So Queen Metanira ran to
the door, with the poor wailing baby in her arms, and
besought Ceres to take charge of it, or, at least, to
tell her what would do it good."

"Will you trust the child entirely to me?" asked
Ceres.

"Yes, and gladly too," answered the queen, "if
you will devote all your time to him. For I can see
that you have been a mother."

"You are right," said Ceres. "I once had a child
of my own. Well, I will be the nurse of this poor,
sickly boy. But beware, I warn you, that you do not

140

THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

interfere with any kind of treatment which I may
judge proper for him. If you do so, the poor infant
must suffer for his mother's folly."

Then she kissed the child, and it seemed to do him
good, for he smiled and nestled closely into her bo-
som.

So Mother Ceres set her torch in a corner (where
it kept burning all the while), and took up her abode
in the palace of King Celeus, as nurse to the little
Prince Demophoon. She treated him as if he were
her own child, and allowed neither the king nor the
queen to say whether he should be bathed in warm or
cold water, or what he should eat, or how often he
should take the air, or when he should be put to bed.
You would hardly believe me, if I were to tell how
quickly the baby prince got rid of his ailments, and
grew fat, and rosy, and strong, and how he had two
rows of ivory teeth in less time than any other little
fellow, before or since. Instead of the palest, and
wretchedest, and puniest imp in the world (as his own
mother confessed him to be when Ceres first took him
in charge), he was now a strapping baby, crowing,
laughing, kicking up his heels, and rolling from one
end of the room to the other. All the good women of
the neighborhood crowded to the palace, and held up
their hands, in unutterable amazement, at the beauty
and wholesomeness of this darling little prince. Their
wonder was the greater, because he was never seen to
taste any food, — not even so much as a cup of milk.

'Pray, nurse," the queen kept saying, "how is it
that you make the child thrive so ? "

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STORIES FROM OVID

"I was a mother once," Ceres replied always; "and
having nursed my own child, I know what other chil-
dren need."

But Queen Metanira, as was very natural, had a
great curiosity to know precisely what the nurse did
to her child. One night, therefore, she hid herself in
the chamber where Ceres and the little prince were
accustomed to sleep. There was a fire in the chimney,
and it had now crumbled into great coals and embers,
which lay glowing on the hearth, with a blaze flicker-
ing up now and then, and flinging a warm and ruddy
light upon the walls. Ceres sat before the hearth with
the child in her lap, and the firelight making her shadow
dance upon the ceiling overhead. She undressed the
little prince, and bathed him all over with some fra-
grant liquid out of a vase. The next thing she did was
to rake back the red embers, and make a hollow place
among them, just where the backlog had been. At
last, while the baby was crowing and clapping its fat
little hands, and laughing in the nurse's face (just as
you may have seen your little brother or sister do be-
fore going into its warm bath), Ceres suddenly laid
him, all naked as he was, in the hollow, among the red-
hot embers. She then raked the ashes over him, and
turned quietly away.

You may imagine, if you can, how Queen Metanira
shrieked, thinking nothing less than that her dear child
would be burned to a cinder. She burst forth from her
hiding-place, and running to the hearth, raked open
the fire, and snatched up poor little Prince Demophoon
out of his bed of live coals, one of which he was grip-

142

THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

ing in each of his fists. He immediately set up a griev-
ous cry, as babies are apt to do when rudely startled
out of a sound sleep. To the queen's astonishment
and joy, she could perceive no token of the child's being
injured by the hot fire in which he had lain. She now
turned to Mother Ceres, and asked her to explain the
mystery.

"Foolish woman," answered Ceres, "did you not
promise to intrust this poor infant entirely to me ?
You little know the mischief you have done him. Had
you left him to my care, he would have grown up like
a child of celestial birth, endowed with superhuman
strength and intelligence, and would have lived for-
ever. Do you imagine that earthly children are to be-
come immortal without being tempered to it in the
fiercest heat of the fire ? But you have ruined your
own son. For though he will be a strong man and a
hero in his day, yet, on account of your folly, he will
grow old, and finally die, like the sons of other women.
The weak tenderness of his mother has cost the poor
boy an immortality. Farewell."

Saying these words, she kissed the little prince De-
mophoon, and sighed to think what he had lost, and
took her departure without heeding Queen Metanira,
who entreated her to remain, and cover up the child
among the hot embers as often as she pleased. Poor
baby! He never slept so warmly again.

While she dwelt in the king's palace, Mother Ceres
had been so continually occupied with taking care of
the young prince, that her heart was a little lightened
of its grief for Proserpina. But now, having nothing

143

STORIES FROM OVID

else to busy herself about, she became just as wretched
as before. At length, in her despair, she came to the
dreadful resolution that not a stalk of grain, nor a
blade of grass, not a potato, nor a turnip, nor any
other vegetable that was good for man or beast to eat,
should be suffered to grow until her daughter were
restored. She even forbade the flowers to bloom, lest
somebody's heart should be cheered by their beauty.

Now, as not so much as a head of asparagus ever
presumed to poke itself out of the ground, without the
especial permission of Ceres, you may conceive what
a terrible calamity had here fallen upon the earth.
The husbandmen ploughed and planted as usual; but
there lay the rich black furrows, all as barren as a
desert of sand. The pastures looked as brown in the
sweet month of June as ever they did in chill Novem-
ber. The rich man's broad acres and the cottager's
small garden-patch were equally blighted. Every little
girl's flower-bed showed nothing but dry stalks. The
old people shook their white heads, and said that the
earth had grown aged like themselves, and was no
longer capable of wearing the warm smile of summer
on its face. It wras really piteous to see the poor starv-
ing cattle and sheep, how they followed behind Ceres,
lowing and bleating, as if their instinct taught them
to expect help from her; and everybody that was ac-
quainted with her power besought her to have mercy
on the human race, and, at all events, to let the grass
grow. But Mother Ceres, though naturally of an affec-
tionate disposition, was now inexorable.

'Never," said she. "If the earth is ever again to

144

THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

see any verdure, it must first grow along the path
which my daughter will tread in coming back to me."

Finally, as there seemed to be no other remedy, our
old friend Quicksilver was sent post haste to King
Pluto, in hopes that he might be persuaded to undo
the mischief he had done, and to set everything right
again, by giving up Proserpina. Quicksilver accord-
ingly made the best of his way to the great gate, took
a flying leap right over the three-headed mastiff, and
stood at the door of the palace in an inconceivably
short time. The servants knew him both by his face
and garb; for his short cloak and his winged cap and
shoes 'and his snaky staff had often been seen there-
abouts in times gone by. He requested to be shown
immediately into the king's presence; and Pluto, who
heard his voice from the top of the stairs, and who
loved to recreate himself with Quicksilver's merry talk,
called out to him to come up. And while they settle
their business together, we must inquire what Proser-
pina has been doing ever since we saw her last.

The child had declared, as you may remember, that
she would not taste a mouthful of food as long as she
should be compelled to remain in King Pluto's palace.
How she contrived to maintain her resolution, and at
the same time to keep herself tolerably plump and
rosy, is more than I can explain; but some young la-
dies, I am given to understand, possess the faculty of
living on air, and Proserpina seems to have possessed
it too. At any rate, it was now six months since she
left the outside of the earth; and not a morsel, so far
as the attendants were able to testify, had yet passed

145

STORIES FROM OVID

between her teeth. This was the more creditable to
Proserpina, inasmuch as King Pluto had caused her to
be tempted day after day, with all manner of sweet-
meats, and richly preserved fruits, and delicacies of
every sort, such as young people are generally most
fond of. But her good mother had often told her of
the hurtfulness of these things; and for that reason
alone, if there had been no other, she would have reso-
lutely refused to taste them.

All this time, being of a cheerful and active disposi-
tion, the little damsel was not quite so unhappy as you
may have supposed. The immense palace had a thou-
sand rooms, and was full of beautiful and wonderful
objects. There was a never-ceasing gloom, it is true,
which half hid itself among the innumerable pillars,
gliding before the child as she wandered among them,
and treading stealthily behind her in the echo of her
footsteps. Neither was all the dazzle of the precious
stones, which flamed with their own light, worth one
gleam of natural sunshine; nor could the most bril-
liant of the many-colored gems which Proserpina had
for playthings vie with the simple beauty of the flowers
she used to gather. But still, wherever the girl went,
among those gilded halls and chambers, it seemed as
if she carried nature and sunshine along with her, and
as if she scattered dewy blossoms on her right hand
and on her left. After Proserpina came, the palace was
no longer the same abode of stately artifice and dis-
mal magnificence that it had before been. The inhab-
itants all felt this, and King Pluto more than any of
them.

146

THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

" My own little Proserpina," he used to say, " I
wish you could like me a little better. We gloomy
and cloudy-natured persons have often as warm hearts
at bottom as those of a more cheerful character. If
you would only stay with me of your own accord, it
would make me happier than the possession of a hun-
dred such palaces as this."

"Ah," said Proserpina, 'you should have tried to
make me like you before carrying me off. And the
best thing you can do now is to let me go again. Then
I might remember you sometimes, and think that you
were as kind as you knew how to be. Perhaps, too,
one day or other, I might come back, and pay you a
visit."

"No, no," answered Pluto, with his gloomy smile,
"I will not trust you for that. You are too fond of
living in the broad daylight, and gathering flowers.
What an idle and childish taste that is! Are not these
gems, which I have ordered to be dug for you, and
which are richer than any in my crown, - - are they not
prettier than a violet ? "

"Not half so pretty," said Proserpina, snatching the
gems from Pluto's hand, and flinging them to the
other end of the hall. " Oh, my sweet violets, shall I
never see you again ? "

And then she burst into tears. But young people's
tears have very little saltness or acidity in them, and
do not inflame the eyes so much as those of grown
persons; so that it is not to be wondered at if, a few
moments afterwards, Proserpina was sporting through
the hall almost as merrily as she and the four sea-

147

STORIES FROM OVID

nymphs had sported along the edge of the surf wave.
King Pluto gazed after her, and wished that he, too,
was a child. And little Proserpina, when she turned
about, and beheld this great king standing in his splen-
did hall, and looking so grand, and so melancholy,
and so lonesome, was smitten with a kind of pity. She
ran back to him, and, for the first time in all her life,
put her small, soft hand in his.

'I love you a little," whispered she, looking up in
his face.

:'Do you, indeed, my dear child?" cried Pluto,
bending his dark face down to kiss her; but Proser-
pina shrank away from the kiss, for though his fea-
tures were noble, they were very dusky and grim.
'Well, I have not deserved it of you, after keeping
you a prisoner for so many months, and starving you,
besides. Are you not terribly hungry? Is there no-
thing which I can get you to eat ? "

In asking this question, the king of the mines had a
very cunning purpose; for, you will recollect, if Pro-
serpina tasted a morsel of food in his dominions, she
would never afterwards be at liberty to quit them.

"No, indeed," said Proserpina. "Your head cook
is always baking, and stewing, and roasting, and roll-
ing out paste, and contriving one dish or another,
which he imagines may be to my liking. But he might
just as well save himself the trouble, poor, fat little
man that he is. I have no appetite for anything in the
world, unless it were a slice of bread of my mother's
own baking, or a little fruit out of her garden."

When Pluto heard this, he began to see that he had

"»
148

THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

mistaken the best method of tempting Proserpina to
eat. The cook's made dishes and artificial dainties
were not half so delicious, in the good child's opinion,
as the simple fare to which Mother Ceres had accus-
tomed her. Wondering that he had never thought of
it before, the king now sent one of his trusty attend-
ants, with a large basket, to get some of the finest and
juicest pears, peaches, and plums which could any-
where be found in the upper world. Unfortunately,
however, this was during the time when Ceres had
forbidden any fruits or vegetables to grow; and, after
seeking all over the earth, King Pluto's servants found
only a single pomegranate, and that so dried up as to
be not worth eating. Nevertheless, since there was no
better to be had, he brought this dry, old, withered
pomegranate home to the palace, put it on a magnifi-
cent golden salver, and carried it up to Proserpina.
Now it happened, curiously enough, that, just as the
servant was bringing the pomegranate into the back
door of the palace, our friend Quicksilver had gone up
the front steps, on his errand to get Proserpina away
from King Pluto.

As soon as Proserpina saw the pomegranate on the
golden salver, she told the servant he had better take
it away again.

"I shall not touch it, I assure you," said she. "If
I were ever so hungry, I should never think of eating
such a miserable, dry pomegranate as that."

'It is the only one in the world," said the servant.

He set down the golden salver, with the wizened
pomegranate upon it, and left the room. When he

149

STORIES FROM OVID

was gone, Proserpina could not help coming close to
the table, and looking at this poor specimen of dried
fruit with a great deal of eagerness; for, to say the
truth, on seeing something that suited her taste, she
felt all the six months' appetite* taking possession of
her at once. To be sure, it was a very wretched-look-
ing pomegranate, and seemed to have no more juice in
it than an oyster-shell. But there was no choice of
such things in King Pluto's palace. This was the first
fruit she had seen there, and the last she was ever likely
to see; and unless she ate it up immediately, it would
grow drier than it already was, and be wholly unfit to
eat.

"At least, I may smell it," thought Proserpina.

So she took up the pomegranate, and applied it to
her nose; and, somehow or other, being in such close
neighborhood to her mouth, the fruit found its way
into that little red cave. Dear me! what an everlast-
ing pity ! Before Proserpina knew what she was about,
her teeth had actually bitten it, of their own accord.
Just as this fatal deed was done, the door of the apart-
ment opened, and in came King Pluto, followed by
Quicksilver, who had been urging him to let his little
prisoner go. At the first noise of their entrance, Pro-
serpina withdrew the pomegranate from her mouth.
But Quicksilver (whose eyes were very keen, and his
wits the sharpest that ever anybody had) perceived
that the child was a little confused; and seeing the
empty salver, he suspected that she had been taking a
sly nibble of something or other. As for honest Pluto,
he never guessed at the secret.

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THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

"My little Proserpina," said the king, sitting down,
and affectionately drawing her between his knees,
"here is Quicksilver, who tells me that a great many
misfortunes have befallen innocent people on account
of my detaining you in my dominions. To confess
the truth, I myself had already reflected that it was
an unjustifiable act to take you away from your good
mother. But, then, you must consider, my dear child,
that this vast palace is apt to be gloomy (although the
precious stones certainly shine very bright), and that
I am not of the most cheerful disposition, and that
therefore it was a natural thing enough to seek for the
society of some merrier creature than myself. I hoped
you would take my crown for a plaything, and me -
ah, you laugh, naughty Proserpina - - me, grim as I
am, for a playmate. It was a silly expectation."

''Not so extremely silly," whispered Proserpina.
'You have really amused me very much, sometimes."

"Thank you," said King Pluto, rather dryly. "But
I can see, plainly enough, that you think my palace a
dusky prison, and me the iron-hearted keeper of it.
And an iron heart I should surely have, if I could
detain you here any longer, my poor child, when it is
now six months since you tasted food. I give you your
liberty. Go with Quicksilver. Hasten home to your
dear mother."

Now, although you may not have supposed it, Pro-
serpina found it impossible to take leave of poor King
Pluto without some regrets, and a good deal of com-
punction for not telling him about the pomegranate.
She even shed a tear or two, thinking how lonely and

151

STORIES FROM OVID

cheerless the great palace would seem to him, with all
its ugly glare of artificial light, after she herself, - - his
one little ray of natural sunshine, whom he had stolen,
to be sure, but only because he valued her so much, -
after she should have departed. I know not how many
kind things she might have said to the disconsolate
king of the mines, had not Quicksilver hurried her
away.

"Come along quickly," whispered he in her ear, "or
his majesty may change his royal mind. And take
care, above all things, that you say nothing of what
was brought you on the golden salver."

In a very short time, they had passed the great
gateway (leaving the three-headed Cerberus, barking
and yelping, and growling, with threefold din, behind
them), and emerged upon the surface of the earth.
It was delightful to behold, as Proserpina hastened
along, how the path grew verdant behind and on either
side of her. Wherever she set her blessed foot, there
was at once a dewy flower. The violets gushed up along
the wayside. The grass and the grain began to sprout
with tenfold vigor and luxuriance, to make up for the
drearv months that had been wasted in barrenness.

\i

The starved cattle immediately set to work grazing,
after their long fast, and ate enormously all day, and
got up at midnight to eat more. But I can assure you
it was a busy time of year with the farmers, when they
found the summer coming upon them with such a rush.
Nor must I forget to say that all the birds in the whole
world hopped about upon the newly blossoming trees,
and sang together in a prodigious ecstasy of joy.

152

THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS

Mother Ceres had returned to her deserted home,
and was sitting disconsolately on the doorstep, with
her torch burning in her hand. She had been idly
watching the flame for some moments past, when, all
at once, it flickered and went out.

" What does this mean ? " thought she. " It was
an enchanted torch, and should have kept burning till
my child came back."

Lifting her eyes, she was surprised to see a sudden
verdure flashing over the brown and barren fields, ex-
actly as you may have observed a golden hue gleam-
ing far and wide across the landscape, from the just
risen sun.

" Does the earth disobey me ? " exclaimed Mother
Ceres indignantly. " Does it presume to be green,
when I have bidden it be barren until my daughter
shall be restored to my arms ? "

"Then open your arms, dear mother," cried a well-
known voice, "and take your little daughter into
them."

And Proserpina came running, and flung herself
upon her mother's bosom. Their mutual transport is
not to be described. The grief of their separation had
caused both of them to shed a great many tears; and
now they shed a great many more, because their joy
could not so well express itself in any other way.

When their hearts had grown a little more quiet,
Mother Ceres looked anxiously at Proserpina.

" My child," said she, " did you taste any food while
you were in King Pluto's palace ? "

"Dearest mother," answered Proserpina, "I will

153

STORIES FROM OVID

tell you the whole truth. Until this very morning, not
a morsel of food had passed my lips. But to-day, they
brought me a pomegranate (a very dry one it was,
and all shriveled up, till there was little left of it but
seeds and skin), and having seen no fruit for so long
a time, and being faint with hunger, I was tempted
just to bite it. The instant I tasted it, King Pluto
and Quicksilver came into the room. I had not swal-
lowed a morsel ; but — dear mother, I hope it was no
harm — but six of the pomegranate seeds, I am afraid,
remained in my mouth."

"Ah, unfortunate child, and miserable me!" ex-
claimed Ceres. "For each of those six pomegranate
seeds you must spend one month of each year in King
Pluto's palace. You are but half restored to your mother.
Only six months with me, and six with that good-for-
nothing King of Darkness!"

"Do not speak so harshly of poor King Pluto,"
said Proserpina, kissing her mother. " He has some very
good qualities, and I really think I can bear to spend
six months in his palace, if he will only let me spend
the other six with you. He certainly did very wrong
to carry me off; but then, as he says, it was but a dis-
mal sort of life for him, to live in that great gloomy
place, all alone; and it has made a wonderful change
in his spirits to have a little girl to run up stairs and
down. There is some comfort in making him so happy;
and so, upon the whole, dearest mother, let us be thank-
ful that he is not to keep me the whole year round."

OLD GREEK FOLK-STORIES

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE

By Josephine Preston Peabody

WHEN gods and shepherds piped and the stars
sang, that was the day of musicians! But the
triumph of Phoebus Apollo himself was not so wonder-
ful as the triumph of a mortal man who lived on earth,
though some say that he came of divine lineage. This
was Orpheus, that best of harpers, who went with the
Grecian heroes of the great ship Argo in search of the
Golden Fleece.

After his return from the quest, he wron Eurydice
for his wife, and they were as happy as people can be
wrho love each other and every one else. The very
wild beasts loved them, and the trees clustered about
their home as if they were watered with music. But
even the gods themselves were not always free from
sorrow, and one day misfortune came upon that harper
Orpheus whom all men loved to honor.

Eurydice, his lovely wife, as she was wandering
with the nymphs, unwittingly trod upon a serpent in
the grass. Surely, if Orpheus had been with her, play-
ing upon his lyre, no creature could have harmed
her. But Orpheus came too late. She died of the sting,
and was lost to him in the Underworld.

For days he wandered from his home, singing the
story of his loss and his despair to the helpless pass-

157

OLD GREEK FOLK-STORIES

ers-by. His grief moved the very stones in the wil-
derness, and roused a dumb distress in the hearts of
savage beasts. Even the gods on Mount Olympus gave
ear, but they held no power over the darkness of Hades.

Wherever Orpheus wandered with his lyre, no one
had the will to forbid him entrance; and at length
he found unguarded that very cave that leads to the
Underworld, where Pluto rules the spirits of the dead.
He went down without fear. The fire in his living
heart found him a way through the gloom of that
place. He crossed the Styx, the black river that the
Gods name as their most sacred oath. Charon, the
harsh old ferryman who takes the shades across, for-
got to ask of him the coin that every soul must pay.
For Orpheus sang. There in the Underworld the
song of Apollo would not have moved the poor ghosts
so much. It would have amazed them, like a star far
off that no one understands. But here was a human
singer, and he sang of things that grow in every human
heart, youth and love and death, the sweetness of the
Earth, and the bitterness of losing aught that is dear
to us.

Now the dead, when they go to .the Underworld,
drink of the pool of Lethe; and forgetfulness of all
that has passed comes upon them like a sleep, and
they lose their longing for the world, they lose their
memory of pain, and live content with that cool twi-
light. But not the pool of Lethe itself could withstand
the song of Orpheus; and in the hearts of the shades
all the old dreams awroke wondering. They remem-
bered once more the life of men on earth, the glory of

1.58

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE

the sun and moon, the sweetness of new grass, the
warmth of their homes, all the old joy and grief that
they had known. And they wept.

Even the Furies were moved to pity. Those, too,
who were suffering punishment for evil deeds ceased
to be tormented for themselves, and grieved only for
the innocent Orpheus who had lost Eurydice. Sisy-
phus, that fraudulent king (who is doomed to roll a
monstrous boulder uphill forever), stopped to listen.
The daughters of Danaus left off their task of draw-
ing water in a sieve. Tantalus forgot hunger and thirst,
though before his eyes hung magical fruits that were
wont to vanish out of his grasp, and just beyond reach
bubbled the water that was a torment to his ears; he
did not hear it while Orpheus sang.

So, among a crowd of eager ghosts, Orpheus came,
singing with all his heart, before the king and queen
of Hades. And the queen Proserpina wept as she lis-
tened and grew homesick, remembering the fields of
Enna and the growing of the wheat, and her own beau-
tiful mother, Demeter. Then Pluto gave way.

They called Eurydice and she came, like a young
guest unused to the darkness of the Underworld. She
was to return with Orpheus, but on one condition. If
he turned to look at her once before they reached the
upper air, he must lose her again and go back to the
world alone.

Rapt with joy, the happy Orpheus hastened on the
way, thinking only of Eurydice, who was following
him. Past Lethe, across the Styx they went, he and
his lovely wife, still silent as a shade. But the place

159

OLD GREEK FOLK-STORIES

was full of gloom, the silence weighed upon him, he
had not seen her for so long; her footsteps made no
sound; and he could hardly believe the miracle, for
Pluto seldom relents. When the first gleam of upper
daylight broke through the cleft to the dismal world,
he forgot all, save that he must know if she still fol-
lowed. He turned to see her face, and the promise was
broken !

She smiled at him forgivingly, but it was too late.
He stretched out his arms to take her, but she faded
from them, as the bright snow, that none may keep,
melts in our very hands. A murmur of farewell came
to his ears, - - no more. She was gone.

He would have followed, but Charon, now on guard,
drove him back. Seven days he lingered there be-
tween the worlds of life and death, but after the broken
promise Hades would not listen to his song. Back
to the earth he wandered, though it was sweet to him
no longer. He died young, singing to the last, and round
about the place where his body rested, nightingales
nested in the trees. His lyre was set among the stars;
and he himself went down to join Eurydice, unfor-
bidden.

Those two had no need of Lethe, for their life on
earth had been wholly fair, and now that they are
together they no longer own a sorrow.

ICARUS AND DAEDALUS

By Josephine Preston Peabody

AMONG all those mortals who grew so wise that
they learned the secrets of the gods, none was
more cunning than Daedalus.

He once built, for King Minos of Crete, a wonder-
ful Labyrinth of winding ways so cunningly tangled
up and twisted around that, once inside, you could
never find your way out again without a magic clue.
But the king's favor veered with the wind, and one
day he had his master architect imprisoned in a tower.
Daedalus managed to escape from his cell; but it
seemed impossible to leave the island, since every ship
that came or went was well guarded by order of the
king.

At length, watching the sea-gulls in the air, - - the
only creatures that were sure of liberty, - - he thought
of a plan for himself and his young son Icarus, who
was captive with him.

Little by little, he gathered a store of feathers great
and small. He fastened these together with thread,
moulded them in with wax, and so fashioned two great
wings like those of a bird. When they were done,
Daedalus fitted them to his own shoulders, and after
one or two efforts, he found that by waving his arms
he could winnow the air and cleave it, as a swimmer

161

OLD GREEK FOLK-STORIES

does the sea. He held himself aloft, wavered this
way and that, with the wind, and at last, like a great
fledgling, he learned to fly.

Without delay, he fell to work on a pair of wings
for the boy Icarus, and taught him carefully how to
use them, bidding him beware of rash adventures
among the stars. ' Remember," said the father, "never
to fly very low or very high, for the fogs about the
earth would weigh you down, but the blaze of the sun
will surely melt your feathers apart if you go too near."

For Icarus, these cautions went in at one ear and
out bv the other. Who could remember to be careful

i/

when he was to fly for the first time ? Are birds careful ?
Not they ! And not an idea remained in the boy's head
but the one joy of escape.

The day came, and the fair wind that was to set
them free. The father bird put on his wings, and,
while the light urged them to be gone, he waited to
see that all was well with Icarus, for the two could not
fly hand in hand. Up they rose, the boy after his father.
The hateful ground of Crete sank beneath them; and
the country folk, who caught a glimpse of them when
they were high above the tree-tops, took it for a vision
of the gods, - - Apollo, perhaps, with Cupid after him.

At first there was a terror in the joy. The wide
vacancy of the air dazed them, - - a glance downward
made their brains reel. But when a great wind filled
their wings, and Icarus felt himself sustained, like a
halcyon-bird in the hollow of a wave, like a child up-
lifted by his mother, he forgot everything in the wTorld
but joy. He forgot Crete and the other islands that

162

ICARUS AND D.EDALUS

he had passed over: he saw but vaguely that winged
thins in the distance before him that was his father

o

Daedalus. He longed for one draught of flight to quench
the thirst of his captivity: he stretched out his arms
to the sky and made towards the highest heavens.

Alas for him! Warmer and warmer grew the air.
Those arms, that had seemed to uphold him, relaxed.
His wings wavered, drooped. He fluttered his young
hands vainly, - - he was falling, - - and in that terror
he remembered. The heat of the sun had melted the
wax from his wings; the feathers were falling, one by
one, like snowflakes; and there was none to help.

He fell like a leaf tossed down the wind, down,
down, with one cry that overtook Daedalus far away.
When he returned, and sought high and low for the
poor boy, he saw nothing but the bird-like feathers
afloat on the water, and he knew that Icarus was
drowned.

The nearest island he named Icaria, in memory of
the child; but he, in heavy grief, went to the temple
of Apollo in Sicily, and there hung up his wings as
an offering. Never again did he attempt to fly.

PHAETHON

By Josephine Preston Peabody

ONCE upon a time, the reckless whim of a lad
came near to destroying the Earth and robbing
the spheres of their wits.

There were two playmates, said to be of heavenly
parentage. One was Epaphus, who claimed Zeus a?
a father; and one was Phaethon, the earthly child of
Phoebus Apollo (or Helios, as some name the sun-
god). One day they were boasting together, each of
his own father, and Epaphus, angry at the other's fine
story, dared him to go prove his kinship with the Sun.

Full of rage and humiliation, Phaethon went to his
mother, Clymene, where she sat with his young sisters,
the Heliades.

:'It is true, my child," she said, "I swear it in the
light of yonder Sun. If you have any doubt, go to
the land whence he rises at morning and ask of him
any gift you will; he is your father, and he cannot
refuse you."

As soon as might be, Phaethon set out for the coun-
try of sunrise. He journeyed by day and by night
far into the east, till he came to the palace of the Sun.
It towered high as the clouds, glorious with gold and
all manner of gems that looked like frozen fire, if that
might be. The mighty walls were wrought with images

164

PHAETHON

of earth and sea and sky. Vulcan, the smith of the Gods,
had made them in his workshop (for Mount ./Etna
is one of his forges, and he has the central fires of the
earth to help him fashion gold and iron, as men do
glass). On the doors blazed the twelve signs of the
Zodiac, in silver that shone like snow in the sunlight.
Phaethon was dazzled with the sight, but when he
entered the palace hall he could hardly bear the radi-
ance.

In one glimpse through his half -shut eyes, he beheld
a glorious being, none other than Phoebus himself,
seated upon a throne. He was clothed in purple rai-
ment, and round his head there shone a blinding light,
that enveloped even his courtiers upon the right and
upon the left, - - the Seasons with their emblems,
Day, Month, Year, and the beautiful young Hours in
a row. In one glance of those all-seeing eyes, the sun-
god knew his child; but in order to try him he asked
the boy his errand.

" O my father," stammered Phaethon, " if you are
my father indeed ' — and then he took courage ; for
the god came down from his throne, put off the glori-
ous halo that hurt mortal eyes, and embraced him
tenderly.

"Indeed, thou art my son," said he. "Ask any gift
of me, and it shall be thine; I call the Styx to witness.".

"Ah!" cried Phaethon rapturously. "Let me drive
thy chariot for one day!"

For an instant the Sun's looks clouded. " Choose
again, my child," said he. "Thou art only a mor-
tal, and this task is mine alone of all the Gods. Not

165

OLD GREEK FOLK-STORIES

Zeus himself dare drive the chariot of the Sun. The
way is full of terrors, both for the horses and for all
the stars along the roadside, and for the Earth, who
has all blessings from me. Listen, and choose again."
And therewith he warned Phaethon of all the dangers
that beset the way, - - the great steep that the steeds
must climb, the numbing dizziness of the height, the
fierce constellations that breathe out fire, and that
descent in the west where the Sun seems to go headlong.

But these counsels only made the reckless boy more
eager to win honor of such a high enterprise.

"I will take care; only let me go," he begged.

Now Phoebus had sworn by the black river Styx,
an oath that none of the Gods dare break, and he was
forced to keep his promise.

Already Aurora, goddess of dawn, had thrown open
the gates of the east, and the stars were beginning to
wane. The Hours came forth to harness the four
horses, and Phaethon looked with exultation at the
splendid creatures, whose lord he was for a day. Wild,
immortal steeds they were, fed with ambrosia, untamed
as the winds; their very pet names signified flame,
and all that flame can do, - - Pyrois, Eolis, /Ethon,
Phlegon.

As the lad stood by, watching, Phoebus anointed
his face with a philter that should make him strong to
endure the terrible heat and light, then set the halo
upon his head, with a last word of counsel.

'Follow the road," said he, "and never turn aside.
Go not too high or too low, for the sake of heavens
and earth; else men and Gods will suffer. The Fates

166

PHAETHON

alone know whether evil is to come of this. Yet if
your heart fails you, as I hope, abide here and I will
make the journey, as I am wont to do."

But Phaethon held to his choice and bade his father
farewell. He took his place in the chariot, gathered
up the reins,, and the horses sprang away, eager for
the road.

As they went, they bent their splendid necks to
see the meaning of the strange hand upon the reins,
— the slender weight in the chariot. They turned
their wild eyes upon Phaethon, to his secret forebod-
ing, and neighed one to another. This was no master
charioteer, but a mere lad, a feather riding the wind.
It was holiday for the horses of the Sun, and away
they went.

Grasping the reins that dragged him after, like an
enemy, Phaethon looked down from the fearful ascent
and saw the Earth far beneath him, dim and fair.
He was blind with dizziness and bewilderment. His
hold slackened and the horses redoubled their speed,
wild with new liberty. They left the old tracks. Be-
fore he knew where he was, they had startled the con-
stellations and well-nigh grazed the Serpent, so that
it woke from its torpor and hissed.

The steeds took fright. This way and that they
went, terrified by the monsters they had never encoun-
tered before, shaking out of their silver quiet the cool
stars towards the north, then fleeing as far to the south
among new wonders. The heavens were full of terror.

Up, far above the clouds, they went, and down
again, towards the defenseless Earth, that could not

167

OLD GREEK FOLK-STORIES

flee from the chariot of the Sun. Great rivers hid them-
selves in the ground, and mountains were consumed.
Harvests perished like a moth that is singed in a can-
dle-flame.

In vain did Phaetlion call to the horses and pull
upon the reins. As in a hideous dream, he saw his own
Earth, his beautiful home and the home of all men,
his kindred, parched by the fires of this mad chariot,
and blackening beneath him. The ground cracked
open and the sea shrank. Heedless water-nymphs, who
had lingered in the shallows, were left gasping like
bright fishes. The dryads shrank, and tried to cover
themselves from the scorching heat. The poor Earth
lifted her withered face in a last prayer to Zeus to
save her if he might.

Then Zeus, calling all the Gods to witness that there
was no other means of safety, hurled his thunderbolt;
and Phaethon knew no more.

His body fell through the heavens, aflame like a
shooting star; and the horses of the Sun dashed home-
ward with the empty chariot.

Poor Clymene grieved sore over the boy's death;
but the young Heliades, daughters of the Sun, refused
all comfort. Day and night they wept together about
their brother's grave by the river, until the Gods took
pity and changed them all into poplar-trees. And
ever after that they wept sweet tears of amber, clear
as sunlight.

NIOBE

By Josephine Preston Peabody

are so many tales of the vanity of kings
JL and queens that the half of them cannot be told.

There was Cassiopseia, queen of ^Ethiopia, who
boasted that her beauty outshone the beauty of all
the sea-nymphs, so that in anger they sent a horrible
sea-serpent to ravage the coast. The king prayed of
an oracle to know how the monster might be appeased,
and learned that he must offer up his own daughter,
Andromeda. The maiden was therefore chained to
a rock by the sea-side, and left to her fate. But who
should come to rescue her but a certain young hero,
Perseus, who was hastening homeward after a peril-
ous adventure with the snaky-haired Gorgons. Filled
with pity at the story of Andromeda, he waited for the
dragon, met and slew him, and set the maiden free.
As for the boastful queen, the Gods forgave her, and
at her death she was set among the stars. That story
ended well.

But there was once a queen of Thebes, Niobe, for-
tunate above all women, and yet arrogant in the face
of the gods. Very beautiful she was, and nobly born,
but above all things she boasted of her children, for
she had seven sons and seven daughters.

Now there came the day when the people were wont
to celebrate the feast of Latona, mother of Apollo and

1C9

OLD GREEK FOLK-STORIES

Diana; and Niobe, as she stood looking upon the wor-
shipers on their way to the temple, was filled with
overweening pride.

"Why do you worship Latona before me?" she
cried out. 'What does she possess that I have not
in greater abundance ? She has but two children,
while I have seven sons and as many daughters. Nay,
if she robbed me out of envy, I should still be rich.
Go back to your houses; you have not eyes to know
the rightful goddess."

Such impiety was enough to frighten any one, and
her subjects returned to their daily work, awestruck
and silent.

But Apollo and Diana were filled with wrath at this
insult to their divine mother. Not only was she a great
goddess and a power in the heavens, but during her
life on earth she had suffered many hardships for their
sake. The serpent Python had been sent to torment
her; and, driven from land to land, under an evil
spell, beset with dangers, she had found no resting-
place but the island of Delos, held sacred ever after
to her and her children. Once she had even been re-
fused water by some churlish peasants, who could not
believe in a goddess if she appeared in humble guise
and travel-worn. But these men were all changed
into frogs.

It needed no word from Latona herself to rouse her
children to vengeance. Swift as a thought, the two
immortal archers, brother and sister, stood in Thebes,
upon the towers of the citadel. Near by, the youth
were pursuing their sports, while the feast of Latona

170

NIOBE

went neglected. The sons of Queen Niobe were there,
and against them Apollo bent his golden bow. An
arrow crossed the air like a sunbeam, and without a
word the eldest prince fell from his horse. One by
one his brothers died by the same hand, so swiftly
that they knew not what had befallen them, till all
the sons of the royal house lay slain. Only the people
of Thebes, stricken with terror, bore the news to Queen
Niobe, where she sat with her seven daughters. She
would not believe in such a sorrow.

" Savage Latona," she cried, lifting her arms against
the heavens, "never think that you have conquered.
I am still the greater."

At that moment one of her daughters sank beside
her. Diana had sped an arrow from her bow that is
like the crescent moon. Without a cry, nay, even as
they murmured words of comfort, the sisters died, one
by one. It was all as swift and soundless as snowfall.

Only the guilty mother was left, transfixed with grief.
Tears flowed from her eyes, but she spoke not a word,
her heart never softened; and at last she turned to
stone, and the tears flowed down her cold face forever.

PYRAMUS AND THISBE

By Josephine Preston Peabody

did not always befriend true lovers, as
V she had befriended Hippomenes, with her three
golden apples. Sometimes, in the enchanted island of
Cyprus, she forgot her worshipers far away, and they
called on her in vain.

So it was in the sad story of Hero and Leander,
who lived on opposite borders of the Hellespont. Hero
dwelt at Sestos, where she served as a priestess, in the
very temple of Venus; and Leander's home was in
Abydos, a town on the opposite shore. But every
night this lover would swim across the water to see
Hero, guided by the light which she was wont to set
in her tower. Even such loyalty could not conquer
fate. There came a great storm, one night, that put
out the beacon, and washed Leander's body up with
the waves to Hero, and she sprang into the water to
rejoin him, and so perished.

Not wholly unlike this was the fate of Halcyone, a
queen of Thessaly, who dreamed that her husband
Ceyx had been drowned, and on waking hastened to
the shore to look for him. There she saw her dream
come true, — his lifeless body floating towards her
on the tide; and as she flung herself after him, mad
with grief, the air upheld her and she seemed to fly.

172

PYRAMUS AND THISBE

Husband and wife were changed into birds; and
there on the very water, at certain seasons, they build
a nest that floats unhurt, - - a portent of calm for
many days and safe voyage for the ships. So it is that
seamen love these birds and look for halcyon weather.

But there once lived in Babylonia two lovers named
Pyramus and Thisbe, who were parted by a strange
mischance. For they lived in adjoining houses; and
although their parents had forbidden them to marry,
these two had found a means of talking together through
a crevice in the wall.

Here, again and again, Pyramus on his side of the
wall and Thisbe on hers, they would meet to tell each
other all that had happened during the day, and to
complain of their cruel parents. At length they de-
cided that they would endure it no longer, but that
they would leave their homes and be married, come
what might. They planned to meet, on a certain even-
ing, by a mulberry-tree near the tomb of King Ninus,
outside the city gates. Once safely met, they were
resolved to brave fortune together.

So far all went well. At the appointed time, Thisbe,
heavily veiled, managed to escape from home unno-
ticed, and after a stealthy journey through the streets of
Babylon, she came to the grove of mulberries near the
tomb of Ninus. The place was deserted, and once there
she put off the veil from her face to see if Pyramus waited
anywhere among the shadows. She heard the sound of
a footfall and turned to behold - - not Pyramus, but a
creature unwelcome to any tryst - - none other than a
lioness crouching to drink from the pool hard by.

173

OLD GREEK FOLK-STORIES

Without a cry, Thisbe fled, dropping her veil as
she ran. She found a hiding-place among the rocks
at some distance, and there she waited, not knowing
what else to do.

The lioness, having quenched her thirst (after some
ferocious meal), turned from the spring and, coming
upon the veil, sniffed at it curiously, tore and tossed
it with her reddened jaws, — as she would have done
with Thisbe herself, - - then dropped the plaything
and crept away to the forest once more.

It was but a little after this that Pyramus came hurry-
ing to the meeting-place, breathless with eagerness to find
Thisbe and tell her what had delayed him. He found
no Thisbe there. For a moment he was confounded.
Then he looked about for some signs of her, some foot-
print by the pool. There was the trail of a wild beast
in the grass, and near by a woman's veil, torn and stained
with blood; he caught it up and knew it for Thisbe's.

So she had come at the appointed hour, true to her
word; she had waited there for him alone and de-
fenseless, and she had fallen a prey to some beast
from the jungle! As these thoughts rushed upon the
young man's mind, he could endure no more.

' Was it to meet me, Thisbe, that you came to such
a death!" cried he. "And I followed all too late. But
I will atone. Even now I come lagging, but by no will
of mine!"

So saying, the poor youth drew his sword and fell
upon it, there at the foot of that mulberry-tree which
he had named as the trysting-place, and his life-blood
ran about the roots.

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PYRAMUS AND THISBE

During these very moments, Thisbe, hearing no
sound and a little reassured, had stolen from her hid-
ing-place and was come to the edge of the grove.
She saw that the lioness had left the spring, and, eager
to show her lover that she had dared all things to keep
faith, she came slowly, little by little, back to the mul-
berry-tree.

She found Pyramus there, according to his promise.
His own sword was in his heart, the empty scabbard
by his side, and in his hand he held her veil still clasped.
Thisbe saw these things as in a dream, and suddenly
the truth awoke her. She saw the piteous mischance
of all; and when the dying Pyramus opened his eyes
and fixed them upon her, her heart broke. With the
same sword she stabbed herself, and the lovers died
together.

There the parents found them, after a weary search,
and they were buried together in the same tomb. But
the berries of the mulberry-tree turned red that day,
and red they have remained ever since.

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

THE APPLE OF DISCORD

By Josephine Preston Peabody

T I XHERE was once a war so great that the sound
_1_ of it has come ringing down the centuries from
singer to singer, and will never die.

The rivalries of men and gods brought about many
calamities, but none so heavy as this; and it would
never have come to pass, they say, if it had not been
for jealousy among the immortals, - - all because of a
golden apple! But Destiny has nurtured ominous
plants from little seeds; and this is how one evil grew
great enough to overshadow heaven and earth.

The sea-nymph Thetis (whom Zeus himself had
once desired for his wife) was given in marriage to a
mortal, Peleus, and there was a great wedding-feast
in heaven. Thither all the immortals were bidden,
save one, Eris, the goddess of Discord, ever an unwel-
come guest. But she came unbidden. While the wed-
ding-guests sat at feast, she broke in upon their mirth,
flung among them a golden apple, and departed with
looks that boded ill. Some one picked up the strange
missile and read its inscription, " For the Fairest;" and
at once discussion arose among the goddesses. They
were all eager to claim the prize, but only three per-
sisted.

Venus, the very goddess of beauty, said that it was
hers by right; but Juno could not endure to own her-

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

self less fair than another, and even Athene coveted
the palm of beauty as well as of wisdom, and would
not give it up ! Discord had indeed come to the wed-
ding-feast. Not one of the Gods dared to decide so
dangerous a question, -- not Zeus himself, — and the
three rivals were forced to choose a judge among
mortals.

Now there lived on Mount Ida, near the city of
Troy, a certain young shepherd by the name of Paris.
He was as comely as Ganymede himself, - - that Trojan
youth whom Zeus, in the shape of an eagle, seized
and bore away to Olympus, to be a cup-bearer to the
gods. Paris, too, was a Trojan of royal birth, but like
(Edipus, he had been left on the mountain in his in-
fancy, because the oracle had foretold that he would
be the death of his kindred and the ruin of his country.
Destiny saved and nurtured him to fulfill that pro-
phecy. He grew up as a snepherd and tended his
flocks on the mountain, but his beauty held the favor
of all the wood-folk there and won the heart of the
nymph (Enone.

To him, at last, the three goddesses intrusted the
judgment and the golden apple. Juno first stood be-
fore him in all her glory as queen of Gods and men,
and attended by her favorite peacocks as gorgeous to
see as royal fan-bearers.

'Use but the judgment of a prince, Paris," she
said, "and I will give thee wealth and kingly power."

Such majesty and such promises would have moved
the heart of any man; but the eager Paris had at
least to hear the claims of the other rivals. Athene

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THE APPLE OF DISCORD

rose before him, a vision welcome as daylight, with
her sea-gray eyes and golden hair beneath a golden
helmet.

'Be wise in honoring me, Paris," she said, "and I
will give thee wisdom that shall last forever, great
glory among men, and renown in war."

Last of all, Venus shone upon him, beautiful as
none can ever hope to be. If she had come, unnamed,
as any country maid, her loveliness would have daz-
zled him like sea-foam in the sun; but she was girt
with her magical Cestus, a spell of beauty that no one
can resist.

Without a bribe she might have conquered, and she
smiled upon his dumb amazement, saying, "Paris,
thou shalt yet have for wife the fairest woman in the
world."

At these words, the happy shepherd fell on his
knees and offered her the golden apple. He took no
heed of the slighted goddesses, who vanished in a
cloud that boded storm.

From that hour he sought only the counsel of Venus,
and only cared to find the highway to his new fortunes.
From her he learned that he was the son of King Priam
of Troy, and with her assistance he deserted the nymph
(Enone, whom he had married, and went in search of
his royal kindred.

For it chanced at that time that Priam proclaimed
a contest of strength between his sons and certain
other princes, and promised as prize the most splen-
did bull that could be found among the herds of Mount
Ida. Thither came the herdsmen to choose, and when

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

they led away the pride of Paris's heart, he followed
to Troy, thinking that he would try his fortune and
perhaps win back his own.

The games took place before Priam and Hecuba
and all their children, including those noble princes
Hector and Helenus, and the young Cassandra, their
sister. This poor maiden had a sad story, in spite of
her royalty; for, because she had once disdained Apollo,
she was fated to foresee all things, and ever to have
her prophecies disbelieved. On this fateful day, she
alone was oppressed with strange forebodings.

But if he who was to be the ruin of his country had
returned, he had come victoriously. Paris won the
contest. At the very moment of his honor, poor Cas-
sandra saw him with her prophetic eyes; and seeing
as well all the guilt and misery that he was to bring
upon them, she broke into bitter lamentations, and
would have warned her kindred against the evil to
come. But the Trojans gave little heed; they were
wont to look upon her visions as spells of madness.
Paris had come back to them a glorious youth and a
victor; and when he made known the secret of his
birth, they cast the words of the oracle to the winds,
and received the shepherd as a long-lost prince.

Thus far all went happily. But Venus, whose pro-
mise had not yet been fulfilled, bade Paris procure
a ship and go in search of his destined bride. The
prince said nothing of this quest, but urged his kin-
dred to let him go; and giving out a rumor that he
was to find his father's lost sister Hesione, he set sail
for Greece, and finally landed at Sparta.

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THE APPLE OF DISCORD

There he was kindly received by Menelaus, the
king, and his wife, Fair Helen.

This queen had been reared as the daughter of
Tyndarus and Queen Leda, but some say that she was
the child of an enchanted swan, and there was indeed
a strange spell about her. All the greatest heroes of
Greece had wooed her before she left her father's
palace to be the wife of King Menelaus, and Tyn-
darus, fearing for her peace, had bound her many
suitors by an oath. According to this pledge, they were
to respect her choice, and to go to the aid of her hus-
band if ever she should be stolen away from him. For
in all Greece there was nothing so beautiful as the
beauty of Helen. She was the fairest woman in the
world.

Now thus did Venus fulfill her promise and the
shepherd win his reward with dishonor. Paris dwelt
at the court of Menelaus for a long time, treated with
a royal courtesy which he ill repaid. For at length,
while the king was absent on a journey to Crete, his
guest won the heart of Fair Helen, and persuaded her
to forsake her husband and sail away to Troy, or
Ilium.

King Menelaus returned to find the nest empty of
the swan. Paris and the fairest woman in the world
were well across the sea.

When this treacherv came to light, all Greece took

V

fire with indignation. The heroes remembered their
pledge, and wrath came upon them at the wrong done
to Menelaus. But they were less angered with Fair
Helen than with Paris, for they felt assured that the

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

queen had been lured from her country and out of her
own senses by some spell of enchantment. So they
took counsel how they might bring back Fair Helen
to her home and husband.

Years had come and gone since that wedding-feast
when Eris had flung the apple of discord, like a fire-
brand, among the guests. But the spark of dissension
that had smouldered so long burst into flame now,
and, fanned by the enmities of men and the rivalries
of the Gods, it seemed like to fire heaven and earth.

A few of the heroes answered the call to arms un-
willingly. Time had reconciled them to the loss of
Fair Helen, and they were loath to leave home and
happiness for wrar, even in her cause.

One of these was Odysseus, or Ulysses, king of
Ithaca, who had married Penelope, and was quite
content with his kingdom and his little son Telemachus.
Indeed, he was so unwilling to leave them that he feigned

A

madness in order to escape service, appeared to forget
his own kindred, and went ploughing the seashore
and sowing salt in the furrows. But a messenger,
Palamedes, who came with the summons to war, sus-
pected that this sudden madness might be a stratagem,
for the king was far famed as a man of many devices.
He therefore stood by, one day (while Ulysses, pre-
tending to take no heed of him, went ploughing the
sand) and he laid the baby Telemachus directly in
the way of the ploughshare. For once the wise man's
craft deserted him. Ulysses turned the plough sharply,
caught up the little prince, and there his fatherly wits
were manifest ! After this he could no longer play mad-

184

THE APPLE OF DISCORD

man. He had to take leave of his beloved wife Penelope
and set out to join the heroes, little dreaming that he
was not to return for twenty years. Once embarked,
however, he set himself to work in the common cause
of the heroes, and was soon as ingenious as Palamedes
in rousing laggard warriors.

There remained one who was destined to be the
greatest wrarrior of all. This was Achilles, the son of
Thetis, - - foretold in the day of Prometheus as a man
who should far outstrip his own father in glory and
greatness. Years had passed since the marriage of
Thetis to King Peleus, and their son Achilles was now
grown to manhood, a wonder of strength indeed, and,
moreover, invulnerable. For his mother, forewarned
of his death in the Trojan War, had dipped him in the
sacred river- Styx when he was a baby, so that he could
take no hurt from any weapon. From head to foot she
had plunged him in, only forgetting the little heel
that she held him by, and this alone could be wounded
by any chance. But even with such precautions Thetis
was not content. Fearful at the rumors of war to be,
she had her son brought up, in woman's dress, among
the daughters of King Lycomedes of Scyros, that he
might escape the notice of men and cheat his destiny.

To this very palace, however, came Ulysses in the
guise of a merchant, and he spread his wares before
the royal household, - - jewels and ivory, fine fabrics,
and curiously wrought weapons. The king's daugh-
ters chose girdles and veils and such things as women
delight in; but Achilles, heedless of the like, sought
out the weapons, and handled them with such manly

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

pleasure that his nature stood revealed. So he, too,
yielded to his destiny and set out to join the heroes.

Everywhere men were banded together, building
the ships and gathering supplies. The allied forces
of Greece (the Achaians, as they called themselves)
chose Agamemnon for their commander-in-chief. He
was a mighty man, king of Mycenae and Argos, and
the brother of the wronged Menelaus. Second to
Achilles in strength was the giant Ajax; after him Dio-
medes, then wise Ulysses, and Nestor, held in great
reverence because of his experienced age and fame.
These were the chief heroes. After two years of busy
preparation, they reached the port of Aulis, whence
they were to sail for Troy.

But here delay held them. Agamemnon had chanced
to kill a stag wrhich was sacred to Diana, arid the army
was visited by pestilence, while a great calm kept the
ships imprisoned. At length the oracle made known
the reason of this misfortune and demanded for atone-
ment the maiden Iphigenia, Agamemnon's own daugh-
ter. In helpless grief the king consented to offer her
up as a victim, and the maiden was brought, ready for
sacrifice. But at the last moment Diana caught her
away in a cloud, leaving a white hind in her place, and
carried her to Tauris in Scythia, there to serve as a
priestess in the temple. In the mean time, her kinsfolk,
who were at a loss to understand how she had disap-
peared, mourned her as dead. But Diana had accepted
their child as an offering, and healing came to the army,
and the winds blew again. So the ships set sail.

Meanwhile, in Troy across the sea, the aged Priam

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THE APPLE OF DISCORD

and Hecuba gave shelter to their son Paris and his-
stolen bride. They were not without misgivings as to
these guests, but they made ready to defend their kin-
dred and the citadel.

There were many heroes among the Trojans and
their allies, brave and upright men, who little deserved
that such reproach should be brought upon them by
the guilt of Prince Paris. There were ^Eneas and
Dei'phobus, Glaucus and Sarpedon, and Priam's most
noble son Hector, chief of all the forces, and the very
bulwark of Troy. These and many more were bitterly
to regret the day that had brought Paris back to his
home. But he had taken refuge with his own people,
and the Trojans had to take up his cause against the
hostile fleet that was coming across the sea.

Even the Gods took sides. Juno and Athene, who
had never forgiven the judgment of Paris, condemned
all Troy with him and favored the Greeks, as did also
Neptune, god of the sea. But Venus, true to her favor-
ite, furthered the interests of the Trojans with all her
power, and persuaded the warlike Mars to do like-
wise. Zeus and Apollo strove to be impartial, but they
were yet to aid now one side, now another, according
to the fortunes of the heroes whom they loved.

Over the sea came the great embassy of ships, sped
hither safely by the god Neptune; and the heroes
made their camp on the plain before Troy. First of
all Ulysses and King Menelaus himself went into the
city and demanded that Fair Helen should be given
back to her rightful husband. This the Trojans re-
fused, and so began the siege of Troy.

THE QUARREL BETWEEN AGA-
MEMNON AND ACHILLES

By Alfred J. Church

THE Greeks sacked the city of Chryse, where was
a temple of Apollo, and a priest that served the
temple. And when they divided the spoil, they gave
to King Agamemnon with other gifts, the priest's
daughter, Chryseis. Thereupon there came to the
camp Chryses, the priest, wishing to ransom his daugh-
ter. Much gold he brought with him, and on his staff
of gold he carried the holy garland, that men might
reverence him the more. He went to all the chiefs,
and to the sons of Atreus first of all, saying, —

"Loose, I pray you, my dear daughter, and take
the ransom for her; so may the gods that dwell in
Olympus grant you to take the city of Troy, and to
have safe return to your homes."

Then all the others spake him fair, and would have
done what he wished. Only Agamemnon would not
have it so.

" Get thee out, graybeard ! " he cried in great wrath.
" Let me not find thee lingering now by the ships,
neither coming hither again, or it shall be the worse
for thee, for all thy priesthood. And as for thy daugh-
ter, I shall carry her away to Argos, when I shall have
taken this city of Troy."

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QUARREL OF AGAMEMNON AND ACHILLES

Then the old man went out hastily in great fear and
trouble. And he walked in his sorrow by the shore of
the sounding sea, and prayed to his god Apollo.

'Hear me, god of the silver bow! If I have built
thee a temple, and offered thee fat of many bullocks
and rams, hear me, and avenge my tears on the Greeks
with thine arrows!"

And Apollo heard him. Wroth was he that men
had so dishonored his priest, and he came down from
the top of Olympus, where he dwelt. Dreadful was the
rattle of his arrows as he went, and his coming was
as the night when it cometh over the sky. Then he
shot the arrows of death, first on the dogs and the mules,
and then on the men; and soon all along the shore
rolled the black smoke from the piles of wood on which
they burnt the bodies of the dead.

For nine days the shafts of the god went through-
out the host; but on the tenth day Achilles called the
people to an assembly. So Juno bade him, for she
loved the Greeks, and grieved to see them die. When
they were gathered together he stood up among them,
and spake to Agamemnon : -

"Surely it were better to return home, than that
we should all perish here by war or plague. But come,
let us ask some prophet or priest or dreamer of dreams
why it is that Apollo is so wroth with us."

Then stood up Calchas, best of seers, who knew
what had been, and what was, and what was to come,
and spake : -

" Achilles, thou biddest me tell the people why Apollo
is wroth with them. Lo! I will tell thee, but thou must

189

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

first swear to stand by me, for I know that what I
shall say will anger King Agamemnon, and it goes ill
with common men when kings are angry."

"Speak out, thou wise man!" cried Achilles; "for
I swear by Apollo that while I live no one shall lay
hands on thee, no, not Agamemnon's self, though he
be sovereign lord of the Greeks."

Then the blameless seer took heart, and spake: "It
is not for vow or offering that Apollo is wroth; it is
for his servant the priest, for he came to ransom his
daughter, but Agamemnon scorned him, and would not
let the maiden go. Now, then, ye must send her back
to Chryse without ransom, and with her a hundred
beasts for sacrifice, so that the plague may be stayed."

Then Agamemnon stood up in a fury, his eyes blaz-
ing like fire.

"Never," he cried, :'hast thou spoken good con-
cerning me, ill prophet that thou art, and now thou
tellest me to give up this maiden! I will do it, for I
would not that the people should perish. Only take
care, ye Greeks, that there be a share of the spoil for
me, for it would ill beseem the lord of all the host that
he alone should be without his share."

"Nay, my lord Agamemnon," cried Achilles, "thou
art too eager for gain. We have no treasures out of
which we may make up thy loss, for what we got out
of the towns we have either sold or divided ; nor would
it be fitting that the people should give back what has
been given to them. Give up the maiden, then, without
conditions, and when we shall have taken this city of
Troy, we will repay thee three and four fold."

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QUARREL OF AGAMEMNON AND ACHILLES

"Nay, great Achilles," said Agamemnon, "thou
shalt not cheat me thus. If the Greeks will give me
such a share as I should have, well and good. But if
not, I will take one for myself, whether it be from thee
or from Ajax or from Ulysses; for my share I will
have. But of this hereafter. Now let us see that this
maiden be sent back. Let them get ready a ship, and
put her herein, and with her a hundred victims, and
let some chief go with the ship, and see that all things
be rightly done."

Then cried Achilles, and his face was as black as a
thunder-storm: "Surely thou art altogether shameless
and greedy, and, in truth, an ill ruler of men. No quar-
rel have I with the Trojans. They never harried oxen
or sheep of mine in fertile Phthia, for many murky
mountains lie between, and a great breadth of roaring
sea. But I have been fighting in thy cause, and that
of thy brother Menelaus. Naught carest thou for that.
Thou leavest me to fight, and sittest in thy tent at ease.
But when the spoil is divided, thine is always the lion's
share. Small, indeed, is my part, - ' a little thing, but
dear.' And this, forsooth, thou wilt take away! Now
am I resolved to go home. I have no mind to heap up
goods and gold for thee, and be myself dishonored."

And King Agamemnon answered, "Go, and thy
Myrmidons with thee! I have other chieftains as good
as thou art, and ready, as thou art not, to pay me due
respect; and Zeus, the god of council, is with me. I
hate thee, for thou always lovest war and strife. And
as for the matter of the spoil, know that I will take
thy share, the girl Brise'is, and fetch her myself, if need

191

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

be, that all may know that I am sovereign lord here in
the host of the Greeks."

Then Achilles was mad with anger, and he thought
in his heart, " Shall I arise and slay this caitiff, or shall
I keep down the wrath in my breast ? " And as he
thought he laid his hand on his sword-hilt, and had half-
drawn his sword from the scabbard, when lo! the
goddess Athene stood behind him (for Juno, who loved
both this chieftain and that, had sent her), and caught
him by the long locks of his yellow hair. But Achilles
marveled much to feel the mighty grasp, and turned
and looked, and knew the goddess, but no one else
in the assembly might see her. Terrible was the flash
of his eyes as he cried, "Art thou come, child of Zeus,
to see the insolence of Agamemnon ? Of a truth, I
think that he will perish for his folly."

But Athene said, " Nay, but I am come from heaven
to abate thy wrath, if thou wilt hear me; white-armed
Juno sent me, for she loveth and cherisheth you both
alike. Draw not thy sword; but use bitter words,
even as thou wilt. Of a truth, I tell thee that for this
insolence of to-day he will bring thee hereafter splen-
did gifts, threefold and fourfold for all that he may
take away. Only refrain thyself and do my bidding."

Then Achilles answered, "I will abide by thy com-
mand for all my wrath, for the man who hearkens
to the immortal gods is also heard of them." And as
he spake he laid his heavy hand upon the hilt, and
thrust back the sword into the scabbard, and Athene
went her way to Olympus.

Then he turned him to King Agamemnon, and spake

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QUARREL OF AGAMEMNON AND ACHILLES

again, for his anger was not spent. "Drunkard, with
the eyes of a dog and the heart of a deer! never fight-
ing in the front of the battle, nor daring to lie in the
ambush ! 'T is a race of dastards that thou rulest,
or this had been thy last wrong. But this I tell thee,
and confirm my words with a mighty oath — by this
sceptre do I swear. Once it was the branch of a tree,
but now the sons of the Greeks bear it in their hands,
even they who maintain the laws of Zeus; as surely
as it shall never again have bark, or leaves, or shoot,
so surely shall the Greeks one day miss Achilles, when
they fall in heaps before the dreadful Hector; and
thou shalt eat thy heart for rage, to think that thou
hast wronged the bravest of thy host."

And as he spake he dashed the sceptre, all embossed
with studs of gold, upon the ground, and sat down.
And on the other side Agamemnon sat in furious
anger. Then Nestor rose, an old man of a hundred
years and more, and counseled peace. Let them listen,
he said, to his counsel. Great chiefs in the old days,
with whom no man now alive would dare to fight, had
listened. Let not Agamemnon take away from the
bravest of the Greeks the prize of war; let not Achilles,
though he was mightier in battle than all other men, con-
tend with Agamemnon, who was sovereign lord of all
the hosts of Greece. But he spake in vain. For Agamem-
non answered, —

"Nestor, thou speakest well, and peace is good.
But this fellow would lord it over all; yet there are
some, methinks, who will not obey him. For if the im-
mortal Gods have made him a great warrior, do they

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

therefore grant him leave to speak lawless words ?
Verily he must be taught that there is one here, at least,
who is better than he."

And Achilles said, "I were a slave and a coward
if I owned thee as my lord. Not so; play the master
over others, but think not to master me. As for the
prize which the Greeks gave me, let them do as they will.
They gave it; let them take it away. But if thou darest
to touch aught that is mine own, that hour thy life-
blood shall redden on my spear."

Then the assembly was dismissed. Chryse'is was
sent to her home with due offerings to the god, the wise
Ulysses going with her. And all the people purified
themselves, and offered offerings to the Gods; and the
sweet savor went up to heaven in the wreathing smoke.

But Kins Agamemnon would not go back from his

o o o

purpose. So he called to him the heralds, Talthybius
and Eurybates, and said,-

" Heralds, go to the tents of Achilles, and fetch the
maiden Brisei's. But if he will not let her go, say that
I will come myself with many others to fetch her; so
will it be the worse for him."

Sorely against their will the heralds went. Along
the seashore they walked, till they came to where,
amidst the Myrmidons, were the tents of Achilles.
There they found him, sitting between his tent and
his ship. He did not rejoice to see them, and they stood
in great terror and shame. But he knew in his heart
wherefore they had come, and cried aloud, " Come near,
ye heralds, messengers of Gods and men. 'T is no fault
of yours that ye are come on such an errand."

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QUARREL OF AGAMEMNON AND ACHILLES

Then he turned to Patroclus (now Patroclus was
his dearest friend) and said, -

;' Bring the maiden from her tent, and let the her-
alds lead her away. But let them be witnesses, before
gods and men, and before this evil-minded king, against
the day when he shall have sore need of me to save
his hosts from destruction. Fool that he is, who know-
eth not to look back and to look forward, that his
people may be safe!"

Then Patroclus brought forth the maiden from her
tent, and gave her to the heralds. And they led her away;
but it was sorely against her will that she went. But
Achilles went apart from his comrades, and sat upon
the seashore, falling into a great passion of tears, and
stretching out his hands with loud prayer to his mother,
Thetis, daughter of the sea. She heard him where she
sat in the depths by her father, the old god of the sea,
and rose from the gray sea, as a vapor rises, and
came to where he was weeping, and stroked him with
her hand, and called him by his name.

' What ails thee, my son ? " she said.

Then he told her the story of his wrong, and when
he had ended he said, —

" Go, I pray thee, to the top of Olympus, to the
palace of Zeus. Often have I heard thee in my father's
hall boast how, long ago, thou didst help him when the
other gods would have bound him, fetching Briareus
of the hundred hands, who sat by him in his strength,
so that the Gods feared to touch him. Go now, and call
these things to his mind, and pray him that he help the
sons of Troy, and give them victory in the battle, so

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

that the Greeks, as they flee before them, may have joy
of this king of theirs, who has done such wrong to the
bravest of his host."

And his mother answered him, "Surely thine is an
evil lot, my son. This life is short, and it should of right
be without tears and full of joy; but now it seems to
me to be both short and sad. But I will go as thou sayest
to Olympus, to the palace of Zeus; but not now, for
he has gone, and the other Gods with him, to a twelve
days' feast with the pious Ethiopians. But when he
cometh back I will entreat and persuade him. And
do thou sit still, nor go forth to battle."

Meanwhile Ulysses drew near to Chryse with the
holy offerings. And when they were come within the
haven, they furled the sail, and laid it in the ship, and
lowered the mast, and rowed the ship to her moorings.
They cast out the anchor stones, and made fast the
cables from the stern. After that they landed, taking
with them the offerings and the maid Chryse'is. To the
altar they brought the maid, and gave her into the arms
of her father, and the wise Ulysses said, "See now;
Agamemnon, King of men, sends back thy daughter,
and with her a hundred beasts for sacrifice, that we may
appease the god who hath smitten the Greeks in his
wrath."

Then the priest received his daughter right gladly,
and when they had ranged the beasts about the altar,
and poured out the water of purification, and taken
up handfuls of bruised barley, then the priest prayed,
" Hear me, God of the silver bow ! If before thou didst
hearken to my prayer, and grievously afflict the Greeks,

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QUARREL OF AGAMEMNON AND ACHILLES

so hear me now, and stay this plague which is come
upon them."

So prayed he, and the god gave ear.

Then they cast the barley on the heads of the cattle,
and slew them, and flayed them, and they cut out the
thigh-bones and wrapped them up in folds of fat,
and laid raw morsels on them. These the priest burned
on fagots, pouring on sparkling wine; and the young
men stood by, having the five-pronged forks in their
hands. And when the thighs were consumed, then they
cut up the rest, and broiled the pieces carefully on spits.
This being done, they made their meal, nor did any
one lack his share. And when the meal was ended,
then they poured a little wine into the cups to serve
for libations to the Gods. After that they sat till sun-
set, singing a hymn to the Archer God, and making
merry; and he heard their voice and was pleased.

When the sun went down, they slept beside the
stern-cables; and when the dawn appeared, then they
embarked, raising the mast and spreading the sail;
and Apollo sent them a favoring wind, and the dark
blue wave hissed about the stem of the ship as she went :
so they came to the camp of the Greeks.

But all the time Achilles sat in wrath beside his
ships ; he went not to the war, nor yet to the assembly,
but sat fretting in his heart, because he longed for the
cry of the battle.

THE FIGHT BETWEEN PARIS
AND MENELAUS

By Walter C. Perry

IN obedience to the summons of their leaders, the
great host of the Achaians assembled on the plain of
the flowing river Scamander, innumerable as the leaves
and flowers in the season of spring. And in the midst
of them stood the great ruler, Agamemnon: his head
and eyes like those of Loud-thundering Zeus; his
waist like that of the Man-slaying Mars; and with a
breast like that of Neptune, the Ruler of the Sea. As
the mail-clad Argives marched on, and rushed across
the plain, the earth groaned beneath them.

Now ^Egis-bearing Zeus sent his messenger, Iris,
to the assembly of the Trojans, with the voice of Po-
lites, son of Priam, their sentinel at Priam's gate, and
spake thus to Hector: 'This is no time for idle words,
for stern war is already upon you. But to thee, O Hector,
do I especially speak; and do thou obey my voice!
As thou hast many allies, of diverse nations and tongues,
let each chief marshal and command his own people,
and lead them forth to war."

And the glorious Hector knew the voice of the mes-
senger, and hastened to obey. He straightway dissolved
the assembly. The gates of Troy were then thrown
open, and the Trojan host rushed forth, with a mighty
din. The blameless Hector, with his glancing helmet,

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FIGHT BETWEEN PARIS AND MENELAUS

was foremost of all, and led the bravest and strongest
of the men; ^Eneas, son of the goddess Aphrodite, or
Venus, born amidst the peaks of Ida, led the Dardans;
and of the other leaders of the allies, the most famous
were Sarpedon, son of Zeus, and blameless Glaucus,
who led the Lycians, from distant Lycia, by the swift-
eddying Xanthus.

And, as the countless hosts advanced, to meet each
other in deadly conflict, the Trojans marched with
noisy shouts, like the clamor of the cranes, when they
fly to the streams of Oceanus, in the early morning,
screaming, and bringing death and destruction to the
Pigmy men; but the Achaians came on in silence,
breathing dauntless courage.

But when they came near to each other, the goodly
Paris went before the front rank of the Trojans, and
brandished his spear, and challenged all the Argive
chiefs to single combat. When the warlike Menelaus,
whom Paris had so deeply wronged by carrying off his
wife, the beautiful Helen, saw Paris there, he was glad,
thinking that he should now punish the false traitor
for his wickedness. So he leaped from his chariot, in his
clanging armor, and advanced to meet the challenger.
And Paris saw him; and pale fear got hold of him,
like to a man who has trodden on a serpent, in a
wooded valley among the mountains; and he shrank
back among the lordly Trojans.

His brother Hector saw him, and reproached him
with scornful words. 'Base deceiver of women, beau-
tiful in appearance and favor, but coward at heart!
would that thou hadst never been born, or that thou

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

hadst died unwedded! Now thou seest what kind of
man is he, whose lovely wife thou hast carried off by
stealth. Of no avail will be thy sounding lyre, thy
beauteous face and curling hair, or all the gifts of golden
Venus, when thou liest groveling in the dust."

And the goodly Paris answered him, "Hector, thou
rightly chidest me, and not more than I deserve. Thy
heart is ever undaunted, and keen as the axe, which
cutteth the strong oak, in the hands of a skillful ship-
wright. But reproach me not for the lovely gifts of
golden Aphrodite; for no man can obtain them by
wishing for them, for they are among the precious gifts
of the blessed Gods. But if thou desirest that I should
do battle with the valiant Menelaus, make the Trojans
and the Achaians sit down; and set me and Menelaus
in the midst, to fight for Helen and for all the treasures
which were taken awav with her. And whichever of

v

us twain shall be the victor, let him bear away the
woman and the treasure, and take them home."

So spake he, and they all kept silence ; but Menelaus
of the loud war-cry stood forward amongst the Greeks
and made harangue, "Hearken now to me, for my
heart hath endured the greatest grief. Whosoever
of us twain shall fall, there let him lie. But now bring
a goodly sacrifice, a white ram and a black ewe, for
the Earth and for the Sun; and another for Loud-
thundering Zeus; and summon hither the great King
Priam, that he may take the pledge; for his sons are
reckless and faithless; young men's hearts are too
frivolous and fickle, but an old man looketh to the
future and the past."

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FIGHT BETWEEN PARIS AND MENELAUS

And Hector sent heralds to the city, to fetch two lambs,
and to summon Priam; while Agamemnon sent Tal-
thybius for a ram. Now Iris, in Troy, came to Helen,
in the semblance of Laodice, Paris's sister, fairest of
Priam's daughters, wife of Helicaon, the son of Antenor.
She found Helen weaving a great purple web, on which
she was embroidering the battles of the Argives and
the Trojans. The swift-footed Iris came near her,
and said, " Come hither, dear lady, come with me, to
see the wondrous deeds of the horse-taming Trojans
and the mail-clad Argives; for now the battle is sus-
pended, while Paris, and Menelaus, dear to Mars,
will fight alone with their spears, for thee; and thou
wilt be the fair wife of the victor." So Iris spoke, and
put into Helen's bosom a longing for her former hus-
band, and for her darling daughter. Then Helen veiled
her face, and went straightway to the Scaean Gate,
letting fall a tear; and her two handmaidens, ^Ethre
and Clymene, followed her.

On the tower above the Scaean Gate, she found the
Trojan elders. These, on account of their age, had
ceased from war, but were still good orators, with voices
like the grasshoppers which sit upon a tree, and send
forth their lily-like voice; so sat the elders of the
Trojans on the Tower. When those ancient sages saw
the fair Helen coming to them, they were astounded,
and whispered one to another, "No wonder that the
Trojans and the Achaians have suffered so many things
for such a glorious woman ! But, fair as she is, let her
sail away, and not stay here to trouble us and our chil-
dren after us."

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

But the aged King Priam addressed her kindly.
" Dear Daughter ! come hither, and see thy former hus-
band and kinsmen ! I do not blame thee, but the Gods,
and especially Venus, by whom this sad war has been
brought upon us. But tell me who is that huge Achaian
warrior? Many are taller than he, but I have never
seen a man so stately and royal." And the fair Helen,
the daughter of Zeus, replied, " O venerable Father
of my lord! would that death had been my lot, when
I followed thy son to Troy, and left my home and hus-
band, and my dear young daughter, and all the loved
companions of my girlhood! But that was not to be,
and therefore I mourn and weep. The man of whom
thou speakest is Atreides, the wide-ruling monarch
Agamemnon, who is both a stately king and a doughty
warrior; he is the brother of Menelaus my husband —
shameless thing that I am!"

Then the aged Priam asked her about the other
Achaian chiefs, — Ulysses, and the gigantic Ajax, the
bulwark of the host, and the godlike Idomeneus;
and the lovely Helen told him all, and said, "I see
all the other bright-eyed Achaians, and could tell their
names; but two I see not, even mine own brothers,
horse-taming Castor and the boxer Pollux; peradven-
ture they came not with the Achaians ; or if they came,
they fight not, for fear of the revilings which men
heap on me — shameless that I am ! " She knew not
that the earth already covered them, in Lacedaemon,
their dear native land. Now the aged Priam drove
out through the Scaean Gate, with Antenor by his side;
and, when he had come to the Achaians and the Tro-

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FIGHT BETWEEN PARIS AND MENELAUS

jans, he descended from his chariot, and stood on the
Earth, the bounteous grain-giver. Then Agamemnon,
the king of men, and Ulysses, the man of many de-
vices, rose up; and the stately heralds brought the holy
oath-offerings to the gods, and mixed the ruddy wine
in the mixing-bowl, from which they gave portions
to the Achaian and the Trojan chiefs. Agamemnon
raised his hands to heaven and prayed, " O Father
Zeus, most great and glorious ! O Sun, who seest and
hearest all things! O ye Rivers, and thou, Mother
Earth! be ye all witnesses to our oaths! If Paris shall
kill Menelaus, then let him keep Helen and all her
possessions; but if the yellow-haired Menelaus slay
Paris, then let the Trojans give back Helen and her
treasures ! "

Then the lordly Agamemnon slew the lambs, and
prayed again to Zeus. But Priam spake unto the
Achaians and the Trojans. "I verily will return to
breezy Ilium; for I cannot bear to see my own son
engaged in deadly conflict with the war-loving Mene-
laus."

Then the goodly Paris, lord of the fair-haired Helen,
put on his beautiful armor. First he set the splendid
greaves upon his legs, fastened round the ankles with
silver clasps ; then he donned the corslet, which he had
borrowed from his brother Lycaon; and he threw over
his shoulders the silver-studded sword-belt with his
sword, and took up his mighty shield; and upon his
beauteous head he placed the helmet, with a horse-
hair crest, and the plume nodded terribly; and he took
a strong spear in his hand.

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

Then he and Menelaus stood face to face, on the
ground which Hector and Ulysses had meted out;
and they brandished their spears, with wrath against
each other. Paris drew the lot to be the first to cast
his long-shafted spear; he threw it, and it struck the
round shield of Atreides Menelaus, but did not pierce
it; for the point of the spear was turned.

Then Menelaus, poising his lance, prayed to Zeus,
" O Father Zeus ! grant me to take vengeance on goodly
Paris, who did me such foul wrong - - me, who had
shown him so much kindness!" He said, and hurled
his strong spear, which struck the bright shield of the
son of Priam; and the sharp point passed through it,
and through his breastplate, and rent the tunic, close
to the side of his body; but Paris swerved from it,
and shunned the black fate of death. Then Menelaus
drew his sword from the silver-studded sheath, and
smote on the helmet of Paris, but the sword was shat-
tered, and fell in pieces from his hand. Then he looked
up to heaven, and exclaimed, " O Father Zeus ! thou
art the most cruel of all the Gods!"

So saying, he caught Paris by his horse-hair crest,
and dragged him towards the well-greaved Achaians,
and the embroidered strap of the helmet went nigh
to strangle him. But Venus, daughter of great Zeus,
who loved the beauteous Paris, drew near him, and tore
the strap of leather; and the helmet came away, empty,
in the strong hand of the son of Atreus. Full of wrath,
he hurled it towards his trusty companions, and they took
it up. He then rushed back again, to slay his enemy;
but golden-haired Venus, being a goddess, easily caught

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FIGHT BETWEEN PARIS AND MENELAUS

up Paris, and hid him in thick darkness, and carried
him into Troy, to his high and fragrant chamber.

Venus, the golden Goddess of Love, then went to
summon Helen, in the likeness of an old woman, a
wool-comber, who had worked for Helen in Laced aemon,
and whom she greatly loved. She found the white-
armed Helen on the high tower, and spake : " Come
hither to Paris, who sends for thee; he is there in the
fragrant chamber, shining in beauty -

" Not like a warrior parted from the foe,
But some fair dancer from the public show."

(Pope's Translation of the Iliad.)

But Helen's heart was greatly moved; she knew

O */

the golden Venus, saw her fair neck and sparkling
eyes, and called her by her name. " O thou strange
Goddess ! wouldst thou again deceive me ? Now Mene-
laus hath conquered Paris, and will carry me home -
accursed as I am! And now do thou no more return
to Olympus, but leave the dwelling of the Gods, and go
and sit by Paris, till he make thee his wife - - or per-
chance, his slave. But / will not go to him ; for all the
Trojan women would justly blame me hereafter; I
have innumerable griefs within my heart."

Then was the bright goddess sore displeased, and
spake harshly to her. "Beware! thou foolish woman!
lest in my wrath I leave thee, and henceforth hate
thee, as I have loved thee until now!" Venus spake,
and Helen, daughter of great Zeus, trembled and
obeyed, wrapping her beautiful garments about her;
and the goddess led her to the fragrant chamber in the

palace, and set her on a chair before the goodly Paris.

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

But Helen looked askance at her lord, and chode
him with bitter words. "Would that thou hadst never
come back from the fight, but hadst perished by the
arm of the warrior who was once my husband ! Thou
didst boast thyself to be a better man than Menelaus!
Go then, and challenge him again, to meet thee face
to face once more!"

Yet Helen, though she could not but despise Paris,
soon became reconciled to him, partly from a remnant
of her former love for him, and partly from her fear of
Venus.

In the meantime, Menelaus was raging through the
field in search of him. Nor could any of the Trojans
find him, or they would have given him up; for they
hated him like death, as the cause of all their sufferings.

And King Agamemnon said to the Trojans, " Now
that the Mars-loving Menelaus hath conquered Paris
do ye give back to us Helen and all her treasures!"
But this was not to be.

THE DUEL BETWEEN HECTOR

AND AJAX

By Walter C. Perry

AND now we must speak of Hector, the noble
Trojan prince, who, after Achilles, was the most
famous warrior of the two hostile armies. Achilles,
indeed, was the son of a goddess, even silver-footed
Thetis; while Hector's mother, Hecuba, was a mortal
woman.

Well knowing the dangers to which he was exposed,
and how soon he might fall in battle, Hector now be-
thought him of his lovely wife, Andromache, and his
little boy Astyanax. When he came to the Scsean Gate,
the Trojan women came running to him, with eager
questions about their husbands, sons, and brothers;
and sorrow filled their hearts. Among them came his
fond and generous mother, Hecuba, leading by the hand
the fairest of her daughters, Laodice, and she called him
by his name, and spoke : " Dear Son ! why hast thou
left the field ? Do the Achaians press thee hard ? Dost
thou come to make prayers to Father Zeus, from the
Citadel ? But come, I will bring thee honey-sweet wine,
that thou mayest pour out a libation to Almighty Zeus,
the Son of Cronos, and refresh thyself with a draught."

But Hector answered her, ' Bring me no luscious
wine, dear mother! lest thou rob me of my strength

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

and courage. Nor dare I make a libation to Zeus,
with hands unwashen and soiled with blood. But go
thou to the Temple of Athene, driver of the spoil;
and lay the finest robe, the most precious to thyself,
upon her knees; and vow to sacrifice twelve fat kine
to her; and beg her to have mercy on the Trojans,
and on their wives and little children! So, perhaps,
she will hold back the terrible warrior, Tydides, from
sacred Ilium. And I will go and seek out Paris ; would
that the earth would swallow him up! for Zeus hath
cherished him to be the bane of his country, and of his
father Priam."

Then Hecuba went to her ambrosial chamber, and
took the finest of her embroidered robes, the work of
Sidonian women, which shone like a star; and went,
with other aged women, to the temple of Athene.
And the fair-cheeked Theano, daughter of Kisseus, the
priestess, wife of Antenor, opened the temple gates,
and took the shining robe, and laid it upon Athene's
knees, and prayed to the great daughter of Zeus. But
the goddess did not grant her prayer.

But Hector went his way to the fair palace of Paris,
and found him in his chamber, polishing his beautiful
armor, and proving his curved bow. Then, when Hector
saw him, he reproached him with bitter words. "O
thou strange man ! thou dost not well to nurse thy spite
against the Trojans, who are now perishing before the
city, and all for thy sake! Rise, then, now, lest the city
be burned with fire!"

And the goodly Paris answered, "It is not so much
by reason of my wrath against the Trojans, but I would

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DUEL BETWEEN HECTOR AND AJAX

fain indulge my sorrow. My wife, too, hath urged me
to the battle. Tarry then awhile, and I will don my
armor; or go thou before, and I will follow."

Then the divine Helen, daughter of great Zeus,
came and spoke gently to Hector, and said, " O brother !
brother of vile me, who am a dog - - would that, when
my mother bare me, the storm-wind had snatched me
away to a mountain, or a billow of the loud-roaring
sea had swept me away, before all these evil things had
befallen me! Would that I had been mated with a
better man than Paris, whose heart is not sound, and
never will be. But come, my brother, and sit by me;
for thou verily hast suffered most for me, who am a dog,
and for the grievous sin of Paris, upon whom, surely,
Zeus is bringing evil days; he will be, hereafter, a song
of scorn in the mouths of future men, through all time
to come."

But noble Hector answered her, 'If thou lovest
me, dear Helen, bid me not stay; for I go to succor
my friends, who long for me in my absence. But do
thou try and rouse this husband of thine, and bid him
overtake me. As for me, I shall first go to my home,
and to my wife and my little son; for who knoweth
whether I shall ever return to them again ? "

So spake the glorious Hector, and went his way
to his own well-furnished house; but he found not
Andromache there; for she had gone to the tower,
with her fair-robed nurse and writh her boy, all bathed
in tears. Hector asked the servants whither the white-
armed Andromache was gone; and the busy matron
of the house replied, "She is gone to the tower of

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

holy Troy; for she heard that the Trojans were de-
feated, and the Achaians victorious." Then Hector
returned, by the same way, down the wide streets,
and came to the Scsean Gate.

And his peerless wife, even Andromache, daughter
of the high-minded Eetion, king of Cilicia — she
whom he had won by countless gifts — came running
to meet him. And with her came the handmaid, the
nurse, bearing in her arms Hector's tender boy, Astya-
nax, beautiful as the morning star. And Hector smiled,
and looked on his darling boy, while Andromache
stood beside him weeping. And she clasped his hand,
and called him by his name. "O my dear lord, thy
dauntless courage will destroy thee! Hast thou no pity
for thy infant child, and for thy hapless wife, who soon
will be a widow ? It were far better for me to die, if
I lose thee; for nevermore can I know comfort, but
only pain and sorrow. For I shall be utterly alone. I
have neither father nor mother; for Eetion, my royal
sire, was slain by great Achilles. And all my seven
brothers went down to Hades on the selfsame day!
they too were slain by swift-footed Pel ides. But my
mother was smitten in her father's halls, by the gentle
arrows of the archer Artemis. Lo! now, thou art all
in all to me, father, mother, brother, and dearly loved
husband! Come, then, take pity on us, and abide in
the tower, and make not thy boy an orphan, and thy
wife a widow!"

And the glorious Hector of the glancing helm an-
swered her, and said, "Dear Wife! I too think of all
these things. But how can I shun the battle, like a

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DUEL BETWEEN HECTOR AND AJAX

coward, to be the mock of the Trojans, and of the Tro-
jan dames with trailing robes ? I, who have always
fought in the van of battle, and won glory for my father
and myself ? I know that the day will come, when sacred
Ilium shall be leveled with the ground, and Priam
and the people of Priam shall perish. But it is not so
much the fate of Priam, and of my mother, Hecuba,
and of my brethren, which fills my soul with anguish;
but it is thy misery, dear one, in the day when some
Achaian warrior shall bear thee away, weeping, and
rob thee of thy freedom. Thou, alas! wilt abide in

v

Argos, and ply the loom, the slave of another woman;
or bear water from the Hypereian fount, being harshly
treated! And one will say, as he looketh upon thee,
' This was the wife of Hector, the foremost of the horse-
taming Trojans in the war round Ilium.' But may the
deep earth cover me, ere I hear thee crying in the day
of thy captivity."

So spake he, and held out his arms to take his darling
boy. But the child shrank crying, and nestled in the
bosom of his well-girdled nurse; for he feared the horse-
hair crest, nodding terribly from the brazen helmet.
Then the fond parents laughed ; and Hector doffed his
helmet, and laid it on the ground. And he kissed his
dear child, and fondled him, and prayed thus to Zeus :-

" O Zeus ! and all ye Gods ! grant that this, my son,
may like me be foremost to fight among the Trojans,
and rule as a king in Ilium; so that men may say,
' He is far better than his father ' ! '

Thus speaking, he laid the child in the fragrant
bosom of his dear wife Andromache; and he pitied

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

her, and caressed her with his hand, and called her by
her name. 'Dear one! be not thus utterly cast down.
No man can slay me till my hour of destiny is come.
But no man, when once he hath been born, can es-
cape his fate, be he a brave man or a coward. Go thou
to thy house, to the distaff and the loom, and make thy
maidens ply their labors. But men shall engage in war,
and I the first of all in Troy."

So spake Hector of the glancing helmet, and went
his way. And his dear wife went to her home, looking
back at him as she went, shedding bitter tears. And
she found her maidens there, and with them she be-
wailed her lord, while yet he lived; for they feared
that he would never again return from battle.

And the goodly Paris donned his beautiful armor,
and hastened after his brother, whom he overtook,
and he made excuse for his long tarrying. And Hector
answered him, "No man can justly speak lightly of
thy deeds, for thou art strong; but thou art slack and
careless, and I am grieved when I hear shameful things
said of thee by the Trojans, who for thee bear so much
toil. But let us be going."

So the twain brothers, the glorious Hector and the
goodly Paris, went forth to the battle. And Paris slew
Menesthius, of Arne, son of Areithous; and Hector
smote noble E'ioneus in the neck, and relaxed his limbs
in death. And Glaucus, captain of the Lycian allies,
cast his spear at Iphinous, and pierced his shoulder;
and he fell from his chariot, and his limbs were loosened.
But when the fierce-eyed Athene saw the Trojans
making havoc of the Achaians, she rushed down from

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the peaks of Olympus, to sacred Ilium. And Apollo,
who favored the Trojans, saw her from Pergamus,
and hastened to meet her; and they met by the beech-
tree, and Apollo of the Silver Bow addressed her : " Why
dost thou come, O Daughter of the Loud-Thunderer ?
Is it to bring victory to the Greeks ? for thou hast no
pity on the Trojans. But hearken unto me, and let
us stop the battle for this day - - hereafter they shall
fight again."

And the fierce-eyed goddess answered him, " Be it
so, Far-Darter! for this was my purpose when I came
from high Olympus. But how thinkest thou to make
the war to cease ? "

Then King Apollo spake. " Let us rouse the valiant
spirit of horse-taming Hector, to challenge one of the
Greeks to deadly single combat." And the fierce-eyed
Maid assented to his words.

And the dear son of royal Priam, Helenus, the wise
augur, who knew the counsel of the Gods, drew near
to Hector, and spake thus to him : " Dear brother,
who art peer of Zeus in counsel, wouldst thou listen
to me ? Make the Trojans and the Achaians sit down ;
and do thou challenge the bravest of the Achaians to
meet thee in single combat. I hear the voice of the
deathless Gods, that it is not yet thy lot to die."

And the great Hector rejoiced at his words; and
going into the throng, he held back the companies of
the Trojans with his spear, holding it in the middle,
and made them all sit down. And Agamemnon made
the well-greaved Achaians sit down. And Athene and
Apollo, in the form of vultures, sat on a lofty tree, and

213

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

watched the hosts. And Hector stood between the two
armies, and spake : " Hear me, ye Trojans and Achaians !
Amongst you are the great chiefs of the Achaians.
Now let one of these be your champion, to fight with
me, Hector: and I call Zeus to witness, that if he slay
me, you shall let him carry off my armor, but give
my body to the Trojans, that they may render to me
the honor of the funeral pyre. But if the Far-Darter
shall grant me glory, that I may slay him, then will I
strip him of his armor, and hang it in the Temple of
Apollo; but his lifeless body I will give back to the
long-haired Achaians, that they may bury him, and
build him a barrow by the Hellespont."

Thus spake the glorious Hector; but all were silent;
for they were afraid to meet him. Then, at last, Mene-
laus, groaning deeply, reproached the Achaians, and
said, " O ye women of Achaia, no longer men ! surely
this will be an everlasting shame to us, if none of the
Greeks dare to fight with the noble Hector! But I my-
self will arm me; for the issues of victory are with the
Gods."

And he began to put on his dazzling armor. And
now wouldst thou, Menelaus, have yielded up thy life
at the hands of Hector; but the great ruler, Agamem-
non, rose up and stayed thee. " Art thou mad, O foster-
son of Zeus ? Draw back, though with grief and pain ;
and think not to fight with Hector, the man-slaying
son of Priam; for he is a far better man than thou;
even godlike Achilles feareth to meet this man in battle.
Go then and sit down; and we will choose another
champion."

214

DUEL BETWEEN HECTOR AND AJAX

And the fair-haired Menelaus obeyed his brother's
words, and his henchmen gladly took off his bright ar-
mor. And the wise Nestor arose, and upbraided all the
Achaian chiefs : " Fie on us ! Shame and lamentation
have come upon us all. Surely the aged Peleus, the
goodly king of the Myrmidons, would deeply groan, if
he heard that we are all cowering before great Hector;
he would pray that his soul might leave his body and
go down to Hades. Would to Zeus, and to Athene and
Apollo, that I were young, as when the Pylians met
the Arcadians in battle, and Ereuthalion, the squire
of King Lycurgus of Arcadia, wearing the divine armor
of Are'ithous, of the iron mace, before the walls of
Pheia, by the waters of lardanus, challenged all our
host; and they were afraid and trembled. Then I,
the youngest of all, stood up and fought with him, and
Athene gave me great glory; for he was the tallest
man, and of the greatest bulk, that I have ever slain.
Would that I were still so young and strong! But of
you, leaders of the Achaians, not one has heart enough
to meet great Hector."

The wise old man's reproaches filled the Achaian
chiefs with shame; and nine of them rose up, ready
to fight; namely, Agamemnon, king of men; and the
stalwart Diomedes; and Idomeneus, and his brother
in arms, Meriones, equal in fight to murderous Mars;
and Eurypylus, and Thaus, and the wily Ulysses,
and two others. Then Nestor spake again. "Now cast
lots for him that shall be champion." Then each man
marked his lot, and threw it into Agamemnon's helmet;
and all men prayed that the lot might fall on Ajax or

215

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

Diomedes, or the king of rich Mycenae. Then Nestor
shook the helmet, and the lot of Ajax leapt out; and
the herald placed it in the hand of mighty Ajax, and
he was glad; for he said, "I think that I shall van-
quish goodly Hector." And they all prayed to the Son
of Cronos, to give victory to Ajax, or to grant unto
each of them equal glory and renown.

Then huge Ajax donned his bright armor of bronze,
and came forth like the war-god Mars when he goeth
to battle. The Achaians were glad, but the Trojans
trembled; and even the brave Hector felt his heart
beat quicker in his breast. But he would not shrink
from the combat, seeing that he had himself challenged
all the Achaians. And Ajax came on, bearing a mighty
shield, like a tower, which Tychius, the cunning leather-
worker, had made for him, of sevenfold hides of lusty
bulls, all overlaid with bronze. And he stood near god-
like Hector, and spake: "Now shalt thou see what
manner of men the Greeks have among them, even now
when Achilles, the lion-hearted, hath left us in his
wrath. But do thou begin the fight!"

And Hector answered him, " Great Ajax, son of
Telamon, sprung from Zeus! speak not to me as if I
were a poor weak boy, or a woman ! for I too have know-
ledge of war and slaughter. I know how to charge
into the midst of the chariots, or, at close quarters,
to join in the wild dance of Mars." He said, and hurled
his long-shafted spear, and struck the sevenfold shield
of Ajax; it passed through six folds, but was stopped
by the seventh.

Then Ajax, sprung from Zeus, threw his ponderous

216

DUEL BETWEEN HECTOR AND AJAX

lance at the shield of mighty Priam's son. It passed
right through the bright shield, and through the well-
wrought corselet, and rent his tunic; but he swerved
aside, and escaped gloomy death. Then the two fell
upon each other, like ravening lions or wild boars;
and Hector smote the shield of Ajax with his spear,
but the sharp point was turned by the stout buckler.
Then Ajax leapt upon him, and drove his spear at
Hector's neck, making a wound from which the dark
blood flowed.

But Hector, undismayed, took up a great stone from
the ground, and with it smote the boss of Ajax's shield.
And Ajax heaved up a far bigger stone and threw it on
the buckler of Hector, and it fell on him like a huge
millstone, and stretched him on his back! But Apollo
raised him, and set him on his legs again.

Then they would have furiously attacked each other
with their swords, had not the Achaian herald, Tal-
thybius, and the Trojan herald, Idaius, intervened
and stopped the fight, holding their staves of office be-
tween the godlike warriors; and Idaius spake to them:
"Fight no longer, brave youths; for Zeus loveth you
both; and we know well what gallant warriors ye are.
Night is upon us, whose commands it behooveth us to
obey."

And the Telamonian Ajax answered, "Let Hector
say those words; for it was he who challenged us."

And Hector of the shining helmet said, "Ajax,
since thou hast received strength and wisdom from
the Gods, and dost excel all the Achaians in the fight,
let us now cease from battle for the day, and hereafter

ti

217

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

we will fight again, until the Gods shall give victory to
one of us. Go now, and rejoice thy friends and kins-
men by the ships, and I will gladden the hearts of
Trojan men and long-robed dames in the holy city
of King Priam. But now let us exchange costly gifts,
that Trojans and Achaians may say of us that we,
having met in this heart-gnawing strife, have parted
like good friends." He spake, and gave to Ajax a silver-
studded sword; and Ajax gave him a purple belt. So
they parted, and went their way; the one to the ships
of the Achaians, and the other to the holy city of Troy.
And the Trojans rejoiced that Hector had escaped
unhurt from the unapproachable hands of mighty Ajax.

THE DEATH OF PATROCLUS AND
THE BATTLE OF THE RIVER

By Alfred J. Church

PATROCLUS came and stood by the side of Achil-
les weeping. Then said Achilles, " What ails thee,
Patroclus, that thou weepest like a girl-child that runs
along by her mother's side, and would be taken up,
holding her gown, and looking at her with tearful eyes
till she lift her in her arms ? Hast thou heard evil
news from Phthia ? Menoetius yet lives, they say, and
Peleus. Or art thou weeping for the Greeks, because
they perish for their folly ? "

Then said Patroclus, " Be not wroth with me, great
Achilles, for indeed the Greeks are in grievous straits,
and all their bravest are wounded, and still thou cher-
ishest thy wrath. Surely Peleus was not thy father,
nor Thetis thy mother; but the rocks begat thee, and
the sea brought thee forth. Or if thou goest not to
battle, fearing some warning from the Gods, yet let
me go, and thy Myrmidons with me. And let me put
thy armor on me; so shall the Greeks have breathing-
space from the war."

So he spake, entreating, nor knew that for his own
doom he entreated. And Achilles made reply, -

" It is no warning that I heed, that I keep back from
the war. But these men took from me my prize, which I

219

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

won with my own hands. But let the past be past. I
said I would not rise up till the battle should come
nigh to my own ships. But thou mayest put my armor
upon thee, and lead my Myrmidons to the fight. For
in truth the men of Troy are gathered as a dark cloud
about the ships, and the Greeks have scarce standing-
ground between them and the sea. For they see not
the gleam of my helmet. And Diomed is not there
with his spear; nor do I hear the voice of Agamemnon,
but only the voice of Hector as he calls the men of Troy
to the battle. Go, therefore, Patroclus, and drive the
fire from the ships. And then come thou back, nor
fight any more with the Trojans, lest thou take my
glory from me. And go not near, in the delight of the
battle, to the walls of Troy, lest one of the Gods meet
thee to thy hurt; and, of a truth, the keen Archer Apollo
loves the Trojans well."

But as they talked the one to the other, Ajax could
hold out no longer. For swords and javelins came
thick upon him, and clattered on his helmet, and his
shoulder was weary with the great shield which he
held; and he breathed heavily and hard, and the great
drops of sweat fell upon the ground. Then at the last
Hector came near and smote his spear with a great
sword, so that the head fell off. Then was Ajax sore
afraid, and gave way, and the men of Troy set torches
to the ship's stem, and a great flame shot up to the sky.
And Achilles saw it, and smote his thigh and spake : -

'Haste thee, Patroclus, for I see the fire rising up
from the ships. Put thou on the armor, and I will
call my people to the war."

220

THE DEATH OF PATROCLUS

So Patroclus put on the armor - - corselet, and shield,
and helmet - - and bound uport his shoulder the silver-
studded sword, and took a mighty spear in his hand.
But the great Pelian spear he took not, for that no man
but Achilles might wield. Then Automedon yoked the
horses to the chariot, Bayard and Piebald, and with
them in the side harness, Pedasus; and they two were
deathless steeds, but he was mortal.

Meanwhile Achilles had called the Myrmidons to
battle. Fifty ships had he brought to Troy, and in each
there were fifty men. Five leaders they had, and the
bravest of the five was Pisander.

Then Achilles said, " Forget not, ye Myrmidons,
the bold words that ye spake against the men of Troy
during the days of my wrath, making complaint that
I kept you from the battle against your will. Now,
therefore, ye have that which you desired."

So the Myrmidons went to the battle in close array,
helmet to helmet, and shield to shield, close as the
stones with which a builder builds a wall. And in
front went Patroclus, and Automedon in the chariot
beside him. Then Achilles went to his tent and took
a great cup from the chest, which Thetis his mother
had given him. Now no man drank of that cup but
he only, nor did he pour out of it libations to any of the
Gods, but only to Zeus. This first he cleansed with
sulphur, and then with water from the spring. And
after this he washed his hands, and stood in the midst
of the space before his tent, and poured out of it to
Zeus, saying, " O Zeus, I send my comrade to this
battle; make him strong and bold, and give him glory,

221

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

and bring him home safe to the ships, and my people
with him." *

So he prayed, and Father Zeus heard him, and part
he granted and part denied.

But now Patroclus with the Myrmidons had come
to where the battle was raging about the ship of Pro-
tesilaus, and when the men of Troy beheld him they
thought that Achilles had forgotten his wrath and was
come forth to the war. And first Patroclus slew Pyrsech-
mes, who was the chief of the Pseonians who live on
the banks of the broad Axius. Then the men of Trov

•>

turned to flee, and many chiefs of fame fell by the
spears of the Greeks. So the battle rolled back to the
trench, and in the trench many chariots of the Trojans
were broken, but the horses of Achilles went across
it at a stride, so nimble were they and strong. And the
heart of Patroclus was set to slay Hector; but he could
not overtake him, so swift were his horses. Then did
Patroclus turn his chariot, and keep back those that
fled, that they should not go to the city, and rushed
hither and thither, still slaying as he went.

But Sarpedon, when he saw the Lycians dismayed
and scattered, called to them that they should be of
good courage, saying that he would himself make trial
of this great warrior. So he leapt down from his chariot,
and Patroclus also leapt down, and they rushed at
each other as two eagles rush together. Then first
Patroclus struck down Thrasymelus, who was the com-
rade of Sarpedon; and Sarpedon, who had a spear
in either hand, with the one struck the horse Pedasus,
which was of mortal breed, on the right shoulder,

222

THE DEATH OF PATROCLUS

and with the other missed his aim, sending it over the
left shoulder of Patroclus. But Patroclus missed not
his aim, driving his spear into Sarpedon's heart. Then
fell the great Lycian chief, as an oak, or a poplar, or
a pine falls upon the hills before the axe. But he called
to Glaucus, his companion, saying, "Now must thou
show thyself a good warrior, Glaucus. First call the
men of Lycia to fight for me, and do thou fight thyself,
for it would be foul shame to thee, all thy days, if the
Greeks should spoil me of my arms."

Then he died. But Glaucus was sore troubled, for
he could not help him, so grievous was the wound
where Teucer had wounded him. Therefore he prayed
to Apollo, and Apollo helped him and made him whole.
Then he went first to the Lycians, bidding them fight
for their king, and then to the chiefs of the Trojans,
that they should save the body of Sarpedon. And to
Hector he said, 'Little carest thou for thy allies.
Lo! Sarpedon is dead, slain by Patroclus. Suffer not
the Myrmidons to carry him off and do dishonor to
his body."

But Hector was troubled to hear such news, and
so were all the sons of Troy, for Sarpedon was the
bravest of the allies, and led most people to the battle.
So with a great shout they charged, and drove the Greeks
back a space from the body ; and then again the Greeks
did the like. And so the battle raged, till* no one would
have known the great Sarpedon, so covered was he
with spears and blood and dust. But at the last the
Greeks drave back the men of Troy from the body, and
stripped the arms, but the body itself they harmed not.

223

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

For Apollo came down at the bidding of Zeus, and
carried it out of the midst of the battle, and washed
it with water, and anointed it with ambrosia, and
wrapped it in garments of the Gods. And then he
gave it to Sleep and Death, and these two carried it to
Lycia, his fatherland.

Then did Patroclus forget the word which Achilles
had spoken to him, that he should not go near to Troy,
for he pursued the men of the city even to the wall.
Thrice he mounted on the angle of the wall, and thrice
Apollo himself drove him back, pushing his shining
shield. But the fourth time the god said, " Go thou back,
Patroclus. It is not for thee to take the city of Troy;
no, nor for Achilles, who is far better than thou art."

So Patroclus went back, fearing the wrath of the
archer god. Then Apollo stirred up the spirit of Hector,
that he should go against Patroclus. Therefore he went,
with his brother Cebriones for driver of his chariot.
But when they came near, Patroclus cast a great stone
which he had in his hand, and smote Cebriones on
the forehead, crushing it in, so that he fell headlong
from the chariot. And Patroclus mocked him, saying, -

"How nimble is this man! how lightly he dives!
What spoil he would take of oysters, diving from a ship,
even in a stormy sea! Who would have thought that
there were such skillful divers in Troy ! "

Then again the battle waxed hot about the body of
Cebriones, and this too, at the last, the Greeks drew
unto themselves, and spoiled it of the arms. And this
being accomplished, Patroclus rushed against the men
of Troy. Thrice he rushed, and each time he slew nine

224

THE DEATH OF PATROCLUS

chiefs of fame. But the fourth time Apollo stood behind
him and struck him on the head and shoulders, so
that his eyes were darkened. And the helmet fell from
off his head, so that the horse-hair plumes were soiled
with dust. Never before had it touched the ground,
for it was the helmet of Achilles. And also the god brake
the spear in his hand, and struck the shield from his
arms, and loosed his corselet. All amazed he stood,
and then Euphorbus, son of Panthous, smote him on
the back with his spear, but slew him not. Then Pa-
troclus sought to flee to the ranks of his comrades.
But Hector saw him, and thrust at him with his spear,
smiting him in the groin, so that he fell. And when
the Greeks saw nim fall, they sent up a terrible cry.
Then Hector stood over him and cried, -

"Didst thou think to spoil our city, Patroclus, and
to carry away our wTives and daughters in the ships ?
But lo ! I have slain thee, and the fowls of the air shall
eat thy flesh; nor shall the great Achilles help thee at
all, - - Achilles, who bade thee, I trow, strip the tunic
from my breast, and thou thoughtest in thy folly to do
it."

But Patroclus answered, "Thou boasteth much,
Hector. Yet thou didst not slay me, but Apollo, who
took from me my arms, for had twenty such as thou
met me, I had slain them all. And mark thou this:
death and fate are close to thee by the hand of the great
Achilles."

And Hector answered, but Patroclus was dead al-
ready, " Why dost thou prophesy death to me ? Maybe
the great Achilles himself shall fall by my hand."

225

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

Then he drew his spear from the wound, and went
after Automedon, to slay him, but the swift horse of
Achilles carried him away.

Fierce was the fight about the body of Patroclus,
and many heroes fell, both on this side and on that.

Meanwhile Antilochus, son of Nestor, ran to Achilles
and said, "'I bring ill news; Patroclus lies low. The
Greeks fight for his body, but Hector hath his arms."

Then Achilles took of the dust of the plain in his
hand, and poured it on his head, and lay at his length
upon the ground, and tare his hair. And all the wo-
men wailed. And Antilochus sat weeping; but ever
he held the hands of Achilles, lest he should slay him-
self in his great grief.

Then came his mother, hearing his cry, from where
she sat in the depths of the sea, and laid her hand on
him and said, —

' Why weepest thou, my son ? Hide not the matter
from me, but tell me."

And Achilles answered, "All that Zeus promised
thee for me he hath fulfilled. But what profit have I,
for my friend Patroclus is dead, and Hector has the
arms which I gave him to wear. And as for me, I care
not to live, except I can avenge me upon him."

Then said Thetis, "Nay, my son, speak not thus.
For when Hector dieth, thy doom also is near."

And Achilles spake in great wrath: "Would that
I might die this hour, seeing that I could not help my
friend, but am a burden on the earth, — I, who am
better in battle than all the Greeks besides. Cursed
be the wrath that sets men to strive the one with the

226

-T^
>x/a

THE DEATH OF PATROCLUS

other, even as it set me to strive with King Agamem-
non ! But let the past be past. And as for my fate -
let it come when it may, so that I first avenge myself
on Hector. Wherefore, seek not to keep me back from
the battle."

Then Thetis said, "Be it so; only thou canst not
go without thy arms which Hector hath. But to-mor-
row will I go to Vulcan, that he may furnish thee

anew.'

But while they talked the men of Troy pressed the
Greeks more and more, and the two heroes, Ajax the
Greater and Ajax the Less, could no longer keep Hector
back, but that he should lay hold of the body of Patro-
clus. And indeed he would have taken it, but that Zeus
sent Iris to Achilles, who said,-

" Rouse thee, son of Peleus, or Patroclus will be a
prey for the dogs of Troy."

But Achilles said, " How shall I go ? - - for arms
have I none, nor know I whose I might wear. Haply
I could shift with the shield of Ajax, son of Telamon,
but he, I know, is carrying it in the front of the battle."

Then answered Iris, " Go only to the trench and
show thyself; so shall the men of Troy tremble and
cease from the battle, and the Greeks shall have breath-
ing-space."

So he went, and Athene put her segis about his
mighty shoulders, and a golden halo about his head,
making it shine as a flame of fire, even as the watch-
fires shine at night from some city that is beseiged.
Then went he to the trench ; with the battle he mingled
not, heeding his mother's commands, but he shouted

227

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

aloud, and his voice was as the sound of a trumpet.
And when the men of Troy heard, they were stricken
with fear, and the horses backed with the chariots,
and the drivers were astonished when they saw the
flaming fire above his head which Athene had kindled.
Thrice across the trench the great Achilles shouted,
and thrice the men of Troy fell back. And that hour
there perished twelve chiefs of fame, wounded by their
own spears or trampled by their own steeds, so great
was the terror among the men of Troy.

Right gladly did the Greeks take Patroclus out of
the press. Then they laid him on a bier, and carried
him to the tent, Achilles walking with many tears by
his side.

But on the other side the men of Troy held an as-
sembly. Standing they held it, for none dared to sit,
lest Achilles should be upon them.

Then spake Polydamas : ' Let us not wait here for
the morning. It was well for us to fight at the ships
while Achilles yet kept his wrath against Agamemnon.
But now it is not j-o, for to-morrow he will come against
us in his anger, and many will fall before him. Where-
fore, let us go back to the city, for high are the walls
and strong the gates, and he will perish before he pass
them."

Then said Hector, "This is ill counsel, Polydamas.
Shall we shut ourselves up in the city, where all our
goods are wasted already, buying meat for the people ?
Nay, let us watch to-night, and to-morrow will we
fight with the Greeks. And if Achilles be indeed come
forth from his tent, be it so. I will not shun to meet

228

THE DEATH OF PATROCLUS

him, for Mars gives the victory now to one man and
now to another."

So he spake, and all the people applauded, not know-
ing what the morrow should bring forth.

Thus did it come to pass that Achilles went again
into the battle, eager above all things to meet with
Hector and to slay him.

But Apollo stood by ^Eneas, and spake to him:
" ^Eneas, where are now thy boastings that thou wouldst
meet Achilles face to face ? "

Then ^Eneas answered, " Nay, I have stood up against
him in the day when he took the town of Lyrnessus.
But I fled before him, and only my nimble feet saved
me from falling by his spear. Surely a god is ever with
him, making his spear to fly aright."

Him Apollo answered again, "Thou, too, art the
son of a goddess, and thy mother is greater than his,
for she is but a daughter of the sea. Drive straight
at him with thy spear, and let not his threats dismay
thee."

Then ^Eneas stood out from the press to meet Achilles
and Achilles said, " Fightest thou with me because
thou hopest to reign over the men of Troy, or have
they given thee a choice portion of ground, ploughland
and orchard, to be thine when thou hast slain me ? Thou
wilt not find it easy. Dost thou not remember how thou
fleddest before me in the day that I took Lyrnessus ? "

Then yEneas answered, : Think not to terrify me
with words, son of Peleus, for I, too, am the son of a
goddess. Let us make a trial one of the other."

Then he cast his spear, and it struck the shield of

229

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

Achilles with so dreadful a sound that the hero feared
lest it should pierce it through, knowing not that the
gifts of the Gods are not easy for mortal man to
vanquish. Two folds, indeed, it pierced, that were of
bronze, but in the gold it was stayed, and there were yet
two of tin within. Then Achilles cast his spear. Through
the shield of JEneas it passed, and though it wounded
him not, yet was he sore dismayed, so near it came.
Then Achilles drew his sword, and rushed on vEneas,
and ^Eneas caught up a great stone to cast at him. But
it was not the will of the Gods that ^Eneas should perish,
seeing that he and his sons after him should rule over
the men of Troy in the ages to come. Therefore Nep-
tune lifted him up, and bore him over the ranks of men
to the left of the battle, but first he drew the spear out
of the shield, and laid it at the feet of Achilles. Much
the hero marveled to see it, crying, "This is a great
wonder that I behold with mine eyes. For I see my
spear before me, but the man whom I sought to slay,
I see not. Of a truth ^Eneas spake truth, saying that
he was dear to the immortal Gods."

Then he rushed into the battle, slaying as he went.
And Hector would have met him, but Apollo stood by
him and said, "Fight not with Achilles, lest he slay
thee." Therefore he went back among the men of
Troy. Many did Achilles slay, and among them Poly-
dorus, son of Priam, who, because he was the youngest
and very dear, his father suffered not to go to the battle.
Yet he went, in his folly, and being very swift of foot,
he trusted in his speed, running through the foremost
of the fighters. But as he ran Achilles smote him and

230

THE DEATH OF PATROCLUS

wounded him to the death. When Hector saw it, he
could not bear any more to stand apart. Therefore he
rushed at Achilles, and Achilles rejoiced to see him,
saying, " This is the man who slew my comrade; " and to
Hector he cried, " Come hither, and taste of death."

And Hector made answer, " Son of Peleus, seek not
to make me afraid with words. For though I be weaker
than thou, yet victory lieth on the knees of the Gods,
and I, too, bear a spear."

Then he cast his spear, but Athene turned it aside
with her breath, and laid it again at his feet. And
when Achilles leapt upon Hector with a shout, Apollo
snatched him away. Three times did Achilles leap
upon him, and three times he struck only the mist.
But the fourth time he cried with a terrible voice,
" Dog, thou hast escaped from death, Apollo helping
thee; but I shall meet thee again, and make an end
of thee."

Then Achilles turned to the others, and slew multi-
tudes of them, so that they fled, some across the plain,
and some to the river, the eddying Xanthus. And these
leapt into the water as locusts leap into a river when
a fire which men light drives them from the fields.
And all the river was full of horses and men. Then
Achilles leapt into the stream, leaving his spear on the
bank, resting on the tamarisk trees. Only his sword
had he, and with this he slew many; and they were as
fishes which fly from some great dolphin in the sea.
In all the bays of a harbor they hide themselves, for
the great beast devours them apace. So did the Trojans
hide themselves under the banks of the river. And

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

when Achilles was weary of slaying, he took twelve
alive, whom he would slay on the tomb of Patroclus.
Yet there was one man who dared to stand up against
him, while the others fled. This was Asteropseus,
who was the grandson of the river-god Axius, and
led the men of Pseonia. And Achilles wondered to see
him, and said, "Who art thou that standest against
me?"

And he said, "I am the grandson of the river-god
Axius, fairest of all the streams on the earth, and I lead
the men of Pseonia."

And as he spake he cast two spears, one with each
hand, for he could use either alike; and the one struck
the shield, nor pierced it through, for the gold staved it,
and the other grazed the right hand of Achilles so that
the blood spurted forth. Then did Achilles cast his
spear, but missed his aim, and the great spear stood
fast in the bank. And thrice Asteropaeus strove to draw
it forth. Thrice he strove in vain, and the fourth time
he strove to break the spear. But as he strove Achilles
smote him that he died. Yet had he some glory, for
that he wounded the great Achilles.

When the River saw that Asteropaeus was dead, and
that Achilles was slaying many of the Pseonians - - for
these were troubled, their chief being dead - - he took
upon him the shape of a man, and spake to Achilles,
saying, <: Truly, Achilles, thou excellest all other men
in might and deeds of blood, for the Gods themselves
protect thee. It may be that Zeus hath given thee to
slay all the sons of Troy; nevertheless, depart from me
and work thy will upon the plain; for my stream is

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THE DEATH OF PATROCLUS

choked with the multitude of corpses, nor can I pass
to the sea. Do thou, therefore, cease from troubling

me.'

To him Achilles made answer, 'This shall be as
thou wilt, O Scamander. But the Trojans I will not
cease from slaying till I have driven them into their
citv and have made trial of Hector, whether I shall

*/

vanquish him or he shall vanquish me."

And as he spake he sped on, pursuing the Trojans.
Then the River cried to Apollo, "Little thou doest
the will of thy father, thou of the Silver Bow, who bade
thee stand by the men of Troy and help them till dark-
ness should cover the land." And he rushed on with a
great wave, stirring together all his streams. The dead
bodies he threw upon the shore, roaring as a bull roar-
eth; and them that lived he hid in the depths of his
eddies. And all about Achilles rose up the flood, beat-
ing full upon his shield, so that he could not stand fast
upon his feet. Then Achilles laid hold of a lime-tree,
fair and tall, that grew upon the bank; but the tree
brake therefrom with all its roots, and tare down the
bank, and lay across the River, staying its flood, for
it had many branches. Thereupon Achilles leapt
out of the water and sped across the plain, being sore
afraid. But the River ceased not from pursuing him,
that he might stay him from slaughter and save the
sons of Troy. So far as a man may throw a spear, so
far did Achilles leap; strong as an eagle was he, the
hunting-bird that is the strongest and swiftest of all
birds. And still as he fled the River pursued after him
with a great roar. Even as it is with a man that would

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

water his garden, bringing a stream from a fountain;
he has a pick-axe in his hand to break down all that
would stay the water; and the stream runs on, rolling
the pebbles along with it, and overtakes him that
guides it. Even so did the River overtake Achilles,
for all that he was swift of foot, for indeed the Gods
are mightier than men. And when Achilles would have

o

stood against the River, seeking to know whether in-
deed all the Gods were against him, then the great wave
smote upon his shoulders; and when he leapt into the
air, it bowed his knees beneath him and devoured the
ground from under his feet. Then Achilles looked up
to heaven and groaned, crying out, " O Zeus, will
none of the Gods pity me, and save me from the River ?
I care not what else may befall me. Truly my mother
hath deceived me, saying that I should perish under the
walls of Troy by the arrows of Apollo. Surely it had
been better that Hector should slay me, for he is the
bravest of the men of Troy, but now I shall perish
miserably in the River, as some herd-boy perisheth
whom a torrent sweeps away in a storm."

So he spake; but Poseidon and Athene stood by
him, having taken upon them the shape of men, and
took him by the hand and strengthened him with
comforting words, for Poseidon • spake, saying, " Son
of Peleus, tremble not, neither be afraid. It is not thy
fate to be mastered by the River. He shall soon cease
from troubling thee. And do thou heed what we say.
Stay not thy hands from the battle, till thou shalt have
driven all the sons of Troy that escape thee within the
walls of the city. And when thou shalt have slain

234

THE DEATH OF PATROCLUS

Hector, go back to the ships; for this day is the day
of thy glory."

Then the two departed from him. Now all the plain
was covered with water, wherein floated much fair
armor and many dead bodies. But Achilles went on
even against the stream, nor could the River hold him
back; for Athene put great might into his heart. Yet
did not Scamander cease from his wrath, but lifted
his waves yet higher, and cried aloud to Simois, ' Dear
brother, let us two stay the fury of this man, or else of
a surety he will destroy the city of Priam. Come now,
fill all thy streams and rouse thy torrents against him,
and lift up against him a mighty wave with a great
concourse of tree-trunks and stones, that we may stay
this wild man from his fighting. Very high thoughts
hath he, even as a god; yet shall neither his might nor
his beauty nor his fair form profit him; for they shall
be covered with much mud; and over himself will I
heap abundance of sand beyond all counting. Neither
shall the Greeks be able to gather his bones together,
with such a heap will I hide them. Surely a great tomb
will I build for him; nor will his people have need to
make a mound over him when they would bury him."

Then he rushed again upon Achilles, swelling high
with foam and blood and dead bodies of men. Very
dark was the wave as it rose, and was like to have over-
whelmed the man, so that Juno greatly feared for him,
lest the River should sweep him away. And she cried
to Vulcan, her son, saying, " Rouse thee, Haltfoot, rny
son ! I thought that thou wouldst have been a match
for Scamander in battle. But come, help us, and bring

235

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

much fire with thee; and I will call the west wind and
the south wind from the sea, with such a storm as shall
consume the sons of Troy, both them and their arms.
And do thou burn the trees that are by the banks of
Xanthus, yea, and the River himself. And let him not
turn thee from thy purpose by fury or by craft; but
burn till I shall bid thee cease."

Then Vulcan lit a great fire. First he burned the
dead bodies that lay upon the plain, and it dried all
the plain, as the north wind in the autumn time dries
a field, to the joy of him that tills it. After this it laid
hold of the River. The lime-trees and the willows and
the tamarisks it burned; also the plants that grew in
the streams. And the eels and the fishes were sore dis-
tressed, twisting hither and thither in the water, being
troubled by the breath of Vulcan. So the might of the
River was subdued, and he cried aloud, "O Vulcan,
no one of the Gods can match himself with thee. Cease
now from consuming me; and Achilles may drive the
men of Troy from their city if he will. What have I
to do with the strife and sorrow of men ? "

So he spake, for all his streams were boiling — as
a cauldron boils with a great fire beneath it, when a
man would melt the fat of a great hog; nor could he
flow any longer to the sea, so sorely did the breath of
the Fire-god trouble him. Then he cried aloud to
Juno, entreating her: "O Juno, why doth thy son
torment me only among all ? Why should I be blamed
more than others that help the men of Troy ? Verily,
I will cease from helping them, if he also will cease.
Nay, I will swear a great oath that I will keep no more

236

THE DEATH OF PATROCLUS

the day of doom from the sons of Troy; no, not when
all the city shall be consumed with fire."

And Queen Juno heard him, and called to Vulcan,
saying, :' Cease, my son; it doth not beseem thee to
work such damage to a god for the sake of a mortal

man.'

So Vulcan quenched his fire, and the River flowed
as he flowed before.

VULCAN MAKES ARMOR FOR

ACHILLES

By Walter C . Perry

ON high Olympus, the Loud-thundering Zeus
spake mockingly to his consort, Juno, and said,
"At length, thou hast what thou desirest, and hast
roused Achilles to fight against the Trojans. Surely,
the long-haired Achaians must be thine own children,
since thou lovest them so dearly!"

And the ox-eyed queen replied, "Dread son of
Cronos! what words are these which have passed the
barrier of thy teeth ? Even a mortal man doth what he
can to help another; and shall not I, the chief of god-
desses by birth and as thy wife - - O thou king of the
deathless Gods ! - - shall not / avenge myself upon the
men of Trov ? "

V

Thus these two strove with one another.

Meantime, the silver-footed Thetis came to the splen-
did palace of Vulcan, bright and immortal, which shone
like a star among the mansions of the Gods. She found
him at his bellows, sweating from his mighty toil;
for he was forging twenty tripods, to stand round the
walls of his well-built mansion. Beneath each of them
he placed wheels of gold ; and they move, of themselves,
into the assembly of the Gods, and so return.

While he was thus employed, the silver-footed Thetis

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VULCAN MAKES ARMOR FOR ACHILLES

approached the house. And Charis, of the shining
veil, the wedded wife of Vulcan (whose first wife had
been Aphrodite or Venus), came forth to meet her,
and took her by the hand, and called her by her
name. "O long-robed Thetis! dear and honored as
thou art! not oft, I ween, dost thou come to visit us.
But follow me, that I may show thee due hospitality."

Then she led the way in, and seated Thetis on a
lofty chair with silver studs, beautiful, and cunningly
wrought, and placed a footstool beneath her shining
feet. And she called to Vulcan, the divine artificer,
"Come hither, Vulcan! for the silver-footed Thetis
seeketh thine aid."

And the glorious lame god answered, 'Revered
and dear to me is she; for she saved me, when my
shameless mother threw me down from heaven; and
I should have suffered dire anguish had not Eurynome,
daughter of Oceanos, and Thetis taken me to their
hearts and comforted me. Nine years I spent with
them, and fashioned all kinds of curious work of bronze

- clasps, and spiral bracelets, and ear-rings, like the
calyx of a flower, and necklaces - - in the hollow grot,
while all around me roared the streams of great Oce-
anus. And none of the other Gods knew where I was,
but only Thetis and Eurynome. And now that she is
come, a welcome guest, to my house, I will repay the
fair-haired nymph in every way, for saving my life."

So saying, he raised his mighty bulk from the block,
and, limping on his slender legs, moved quickly; and
he put away his bellows, and placed his tools in a silver
chest, and sponged his face and hands, his strong neck

239

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

and hairy breast; then he donned his tunic, and lean-
ing on a staff, he limped along. And golden hand-
maids, in the form of living maidens, came to help
their lord; these have intelligent minds, and human
voices, and skill from the deathless Gods. And he went
with halting gait, and seated himself on a shining
throne, near the silver-footed Thetis; and he took her
by the hand, and said to her, "O dear and honored
Thetis of the flowing robes! why comest thou to our
house, thou, an infrequent guest ? "

Then the silver-footed goddess answered him, "O
Vulcan! hath Zeus, the son of Cronos, laid on any
other goddess in Olympus such grievous woes as on
me, unhappy that I am ? He chose out me, from all
the sea nymphs, to endure marriage with a mortal.
A son I bare, the greatest of heroes. I brought him up,
like a young tree in a fruitful soil, and sent him in a
high-peaked ship to war against the Trojans; but
never again will he return to me, in the halls of his
aged father Peleus. And even while I yet see him,

O "

and he beholdeth the light of the sun, he is full of
grief, and I cannot help him. For King Agamemnon
took away his prize, the dearly loved maiden Briseis.
For the loss of her, he pined and wept; nor would he
allow his Myrmidons to join in the battle, though the
Achaians were hard pressed and driven to their ships.
The chiefs of the Argives came to him with prayers
and tears, and many costly gifts. And though he refused
himself to rescue them, he suffered Patroclus to put on
his divine armor, and sent many of the Myrmidons
with him to the battle. And the son of Menoetius per-

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VULCAN MAKES ARMOR FOR ACHILLES

formed high deeds of valor, and went near to sack the
city. But the Far-Darting Apollo and glorious Hector
slew him, and gained immortal glory. And now, I
come as a suppliant, to clasp thy knees, and to pray
that thou wouldst give my short-lived son a shield,
a helmet, a breastplate, and goodly greaves."

Then the lame god, the famous artificer, replied,
" Be of good cheer, O silver-footed Queen, and be not
troubled about these things! Would that I could as
surely save him from mournful death, as that I will
supply him with goodly armor, a wonder to behold!"

And he returned to his workshop, and bade his bel-
lows - - there were twenty of them - - blow the blasts
on the fire and prepare the earthen moulds ; and
as Vulcan willed, the work was done. He melted the
tough bronze and tin, the gold and silver, with the
fire; and placed an anvil and took a strong hammer
in one hand, and tongs in the other, and with these
he worked.

First, he made the shield, broad and strong, with
many decorations. Around it he placed a triple bright
rim, and a silver strap depended from it. The shield
itself was formed with five zones, in each of which he
fashioned manv curious works.

t/

Therein he fashioned the Earth, the Sky, the Sea,
the unwearied Sun, the Moon at the full, and all the
bright luminaries which crown the azure firmament:
the Pleiades, daughters of Atlas, the Hyades, the mighty
Orion, and, turning about to watch Orion, the Bear,
which alone of all the stars bathes not in the streams
of Ocean us.

241

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

Also, on the shield, he sculptured two fair cities of
articulate-speaking men. In one of these were wedding-
festivals; and, with a blaze of torchlight, the brides
were conducted from their chambers along the streets;
while the hymeneal song was loud, and the youths
whirled round and round in the giddy dance, to the
music of flute and harp; while the women stood at
their doors, watching and admiring. In that city he
also fashioned an assembly of the people, in which a
contention had arisen, about the blood-fine or "were-
geld " for a murdered man ; the people, with noisy
shouts, cheered, on either side; but the heralds stilled
the tumult, holding their staves of office in their hands ;
and then the judges rose up, to pronounce their verdict.

Around the other city lay two armies besieging it,
with flashing arms. Two plans were considered: either
to destroy the town, or to divide the wealth thereof
with its citizens. But the beleaguered garrison had not
yet yielded, but armed themselves and set an ambush.
Their dear wives and children, and the old men, stood
on the walls to defend it, while the strong men went
forth to fight. And they were led by Mars and Athene,
whose forms were fashioned in gold, with golden rai-
ment; and, as gods, he made them larger and more
beautiful than the mortals around them.

The men in ambush set upon the herdsmen who
were driving oxen to the watering-place of the army,
and making music with their pipes. They carried off
the cattle; but the besiegers, as they sat before the
rostra, heard the lowing of the oxen and drove up,
with their high-stepping horses, to repel the raid. Then

242

VULCAN MAKES ARMOR FOR ACHILLES

a fierce conflict arose ; and in it were seen Strife,
and Uproar, and Dire Fate ; like living warriors, they
rushed on one another, and haled away the dead whom
they slew.

In another part of the shield, he represented a rich,
deep-soiled, fallow field, thrice ploughed; and when
the ploughers came to the «nd of the furrow, a man
would give to each of them a goblet of sweet wine.
And the ploughed ground grew black behind them,
like real soil, although it was of gold. Then there, too,
was a rich field of corn, where reapers were cutting
the harvest with their sickles and it fell in rows; and
others were binding it with bands of straw; while
the lord looked on, and was glad at heart. And under
a spreading oak a feast was being made ready for the
reapers.

And he fashioned therein a vineyard, rich with clus-
ters of black grapes, which the youths and maidens,
in their glee, carried in baskets; while a boy, in their
midst, made sweet music on a clear-sounding harp;
and he sang the "Song of Linos," and the rest kept
time with their feet.

And there was a herd of straight-horned oxen, all
of gold and tin, hurrying to the pasture beside the
gently murmuring stream and the waving rushes.
Four herdsmen, of gold, followed them, and nine fleet
dogs. And two terrible lions seized a bellowing bull.
The herdsmen followed, but they could not set on their
dogs to bite the lions, for the dogs shrank back, barking
and whining, and turned away.

And therein the glorious divine artist placed a wide

243

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR.

pasture full of white sheep, with folds and tents and
huts. And he made a dancing-ground, like that which
Daedalus wrought at Gnosos for lovely fair-haired
Ariadne. There, lusty youths in shining tunics glisten-
ing with oil, danced with fair maidens of costly wooing.
The maidens had wreaths of flowers upon their heads;
and the youths wore daggers hanging from silver sword-
belts. They whirled round, with lightly tripping feet,
swift as the potter's wheel, holding each other by the
wrist; and then they ran, in lines, to meet each other.
A crowd of friends stood round and joyfully watched
the dance, and a divine minstrel made sweet music
with his harp, while a pair of tumblers diverted the
crowd.

Lastly, around the margin of the shield, Vulcan
made the stream of the mighty river Oceanus, which
encircleth the earth.

And when he had finished this strong and splendid
shield, he wrought the breastplate, glowing with blaz-
ing fire; and he made a heavy helmet for the head,
beautiful, and adorned with curious art; upon it was
a crest of gold. But the goodly greaves he made of
flexile tin. When he had completed the whole suit
of glorious armor, he laid it before the silver-footed
Thetis, the mother of Achilles; and she darted, swift
as a hawk, from snowy Olympus, bearing the brightly
glittering arms to her dear son.

THE SLAYING OF HECTOR

By Walter C. Perry

MEANTIME, Achilles went on slaughtering the
Trojans; and the aged Priam stood on the sa-
cred tower, and saw the son of Peleus driving the Tro-
jans before him. And he shouted aloud to the brave
warders of the gates, " Open the gates, that the fugitives
mav enter ! " And the Far-Darter went to the front,

i/

to save the Trojans who were fleeing to the sheltering
walls, with Achilles behind them in hot pursuit.

Then would the Achaians have stormed the lofty
gates of Troy, had not Phoebus Apollo roused Agenor,
a brave and noble prince, son of Antenor. Apollo
stood by this man's side, leaning on an oak, and shrouded
in mist, and put courage into his heart, that he might
ward off fate from the Trojans. And when Agenor
saw Achilles, he stood irresolute, and said to his mighty
heart, " If I too flee before Achilles, he will catch me
and slay me as a coward. Or shall I fly by another
way, and hide me in the spurs of Ida? How, then,
if I go forth to meet him ? for his flesh, too, may surely
be pierced by the keen bronze, and he has but one life,
like other mortals."

And his heart grew strong within him, to stay and
fight. And he cried out aloud to Achilles, "Surely,
thou thiukest this very day to sack the proud city of

245

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

Troy? Fool! many terrible things will happen before
that; for there are many of us - - many and brave —
to protect our dear parents and wives and little children,
and to guard holy Ilium. Thou, too, perhaps, mighty
as thou art, mayest here meet death."

He spake and hurled a spear at Achilles with his
strong hand. And it smote him below the knee, and the
tin-wrought greave rang loudly; but the stout spear
bounded off, for it could not pierce the work of Vulcan.

Then Achilles rushed on godlike Agenor; but him
Apollo caught in a mist, and carried him safely out of
the fray. And the god took the form of Agenor, and ran
a little way before Achilles, towards the deep-flowing
Scamander. And while Apollo thus deceived the mighty
son of Peleus, the routed Trojans ran, well pleased, to
their stronghold, and the great city was filled with their
multitude.

Then as he ran before Achilles, the mighty Far-
Darter addressed him, and spake: "O son of Peleus!
why dost thou, being a mortal man, pursue me with
thy swift feet, who am a deathless god ? " Then, in
wrath, the son of Peleus answered him: 'Thou hast
blinded me, most mischievous of all the Gods ! and lured
me away from the walls; else would many a Trojan
have fallen, or ever he had reached the city." He then
went towards the city, with a proud heart, like a war-
horse victorious in a chariot race; and the aged Priam
saw him, blazing like the star in autumn brightest of
all, which men call " Orion's Dog," that bringeth fever
upon wretched mortals.

And the old man cried aloud, in his agony, and beat

246

THE SLAYING OF HECTOR

his head with his fists, and called in a piercing voice
to his dear son Hector. For the brave hero, when all
the others had escaped into the city, remained alone
at the Scsean Gate eager to fight with Achilles. And
his wretched father stretched forth his withered hands,
and pleaded piteously to his son:-

" Hector! dear Hector! do not meet this terrible man
alone, for he is far mightier than thou, and knoweth
no pity. Already hath he robbed me of many a brave
son; and now I no longer see two of my children,
Lycaon and the goodly Polydorus, whom Laothoe,
princess among women, bare to me. But the death of
others will cause us briefer grief, if thou, dear Hector,
art not slain. Come, then, within the walls, and save
the men and women of Troy! And have pity on me,
too, to whom the son of Cronos hath allotted a terrible
doom in my old age - - to see my brave sons dragged
away, and my fair daughters carried off, as captives,
by the cruel hands of the Achaians. Last of all, I too
shall be torn, on my own threshold, by ravenous dogs
- even the dogs which I myself have reared with food
from my table, to guard my house. They will tear my
flesh and drink my blood ! It may well become a young
man to lie slain on the field, for he is highly honored
in his death; but when dogs defile an old man's head
and beard, this is the most lamentable thing that be-
falleth wretched mortals."

And the old man tore his hair in his sore agony;
but even he prevailed not with the soul of Hector.
And then his dear mother, Hecuba, took up the plaint
and spake through her piteous tears.

247

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

"Hector! my child! have respect to the mother who
bare thee and nursed thee on this bosom! Pity me!
and fight the foe from this side of the wall! For if he
slay thee, not on a funeral bed shall I, and thy dear
wife, won by so many gifts, deplore thee; but the
swift dogs shall devour thee, far away from us, by the
black ships of the Argives."

Thus wailed they over their glorious son, beseech-
ing him; but they could not prevail, for honor held
him fast. Meanwhile, Achilles drew nigh, in strength
like a giant; but Hector awaited him undismayed,
leaning his shield against the tower. And he communed
thus with his brave soul: "Alas, if I go through the
gates, Polydamas will justly blame me; for he gave
me good advice — that I should lead the host into the
city on that fatal night, when the noble Achilles re-
turned to the war. And I would not hearken to him,
although he counseled well. And now that I have
brought this evil on the city by my folly, I am ashamed
to appear before the men, and the proud dames with
trailing robes, lest some one should taunt me and say,
'Hector in his pride hath ruined us.' Better then would
it be for me to meet Achilles, and either slay him or fall
with glory before the city. Or how would it be if I
should lay aside all my arms, and go to meet the son
of Peleus, and offer to restore Argive Helen and all
her possessions to Menelaus and Agamemnon, and to
divide the wealth of Troy with the Achaians ? But no !
I might come to him unarmed, but he is merciless,
and would slay me on the spot, as if I were a woman.
But why do I hesitate ? This is no time to hold dalliance

248

THE SLAYING OF HECTOR

with him, from oak or rock, like youths and maidens.
Better to fight at once, and see to whom Olympian
Zeus will give the victory!"

While he thus pondered, Achilles, peer of Mars,
came on, poising his terrible spear of Pelian ash;
and his divine armor, the work of a god, blazed like
fire or the rising sun. And when Hector saw him he
was seized with panic, and he fled from the gates in
terror.

But Achilles, swift of foot, rushed after him. As a
falcon, swiftest of all birds, swoops upon the trembling
dove, and takes no heed of her piteous screaming, so
Achilles flew straight at Hector. And pursuer and pur-
sued passed by the guard and the wild fig-tree, the
sport of the winds, and came to the two springs of water,
which feed the deep-whirling Scamander. Brave was
he who fled, but mightier far was he who chased him
on his swift feet; and they were racing not for some
prize in the games, but for the life of the noble horse-
taming Hector. And like horses in the race for a great
prize — a tripod or a woman — so the twain ran thrice
round the sacred city of King Priam ; and all the Gods
were looking on.

And Zeus, the great father of Gods and men, spake
first : " Alas ! I see a man whom I love above all others
chased round the walls of Troy. Come now, let us
take some counsel, whether to save him or leave him
to be slain by the son of Peleus."

And the fierce-eyed Athene answered him, " O thou
great Lord of the Lightning, Cloud-girt King! what
a word hast thou spoken! Wouldst thou indeed save

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

a mortal long ago doomed by Fate ? Do as thou pleasest;
but we Gods shall not praise thee."

And her great father, the Cloud-Gatherer, answered
with gentle words, "O Trito-born, my dear child!
be of good cheer. I spake not in earnest, and would
fain please thee. Do as seemeth good to thee." And
Athene, full of joy, sped down from high Olympus.

Achilles, with all speed, was chasing the noble Hector,
as the dogs hunt the fawn of a deer through dale and
woodland; and though the fawn hideth behind a bush,
they follow by the scent until they find it; so Hector
could not escape from the swift-footed son of Peleus.
Often did Hector rush along the strong walls, in hopes
that the Trojans within might succor him from above
with their arrows. But Achilles gained on him and
turned him into the plain again.

And so, though Hector failed in his flight and Achilles
in his pursuit, yet might Hector have escaped his doom,
had not this been the last time that Apollo the Far-
Darter came nigh to him, to nerve his heart and his
swift knees. Achilles had made a sign to his comrades,
and forbade them to launch their darts against the
noble Hector, lest one of them should gain high honor,
and he come only second. And when they had, for
the fourth time, run round the walls and reached the
springs, then Zeus, the Great Father, raised his golden
scales, and placed in each the lot of gloomy death, -
one for Hector, and the other for Achilles. And he held
the scales by the middle, and poised them; and the
noble Hector's scale sank down to Hades ; and Phcebus
Apollo left him.

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THE SLAYING OF HECTOR

But the fierce-eyed goddess Athene came near to
Achilles and spake winged words: "Now, at last, O
godlike Achilles! shall we twain carry off great glory
to the Achaian ships ! He cannot now escape us, though
the Far-Darter should grovel at the feet of Zeus with
fruitless prayers. But do thou stay and recover thy
breath; and I will go and persuade Hector to stand
up against thee in fight." And he gladly obeyed her
voice, and stood leaning on his ashen spear.

And she, Athene, came to noble Hector in the
likeness of his brother Dei'phobus, and spake to him:
;<Dear Lord and elder Brother, surely the fleet-footed
son of Peleus hath done great violence against thee,
chasing thee round the walls! But let us twain make
a stand against him!"

And the great Hector answered, "Dei'phobus, thou
wert ever the dearest of my brothers; now I honor
thee still more, because thou hast dared to come out
from behind the walls to aid me, while others skulk
within."

The fierce-eyed goddess, as Dei'phobus, spake again :
"It is true that my father, and my queenly mother,
and all my comrades, besought me to stay with them,
so greatly do they fear the mighty son of Peleus; but
my heart was sore for thee, dear brother! But let us
fight amain, and see whether he will carry our spoils
to his ships, or fall beneath thy spear!" And so, with
her cunning words, she led him on to death.

And when he and Achilles were come near to each
other, the noble Hector spake: " O mighty Achilles,
thrice did I flee before thee round the great city of

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN .WAR

Priam, and dared not await thy onslaught. But now
I will stand up against thee, to slay or to be slain.
But come, let us make a covenant with one another,
and call the Gods, the best guardians of oaths, to wit-
ness. If Zeus grant me to take thy life, and despoil
thee of thy divine armor, then will I give back thy
body to the warlike Achaians; and do thou the same
by me!"

And Achilles, with a malignant scowl, replied,
"Speak not to me of covenants! There is no cove-
nant between men and lions, or between wolves and
sheep, but only eternal war. And there can be no
pledge of faith between us twain, until one of us hath
sated the murderous Mars with his blood. Therefore,
show thyself a good spearman and a brave man of war !
There is no escape for thee ; for Pallas Athene hath
delivered thee into my hands."

He spake, and cast his long-shafted spear at Hector.
But Hector stooped, and the strong bronze spear flew
over his head; but Athene picked it up, unknown to
Hector, and gave it back to Achilles. Then Hector,
rejoicing, spake to the son of Peleus: "Thou hast
missed ! Nor dost thou surely know the day of my doom,
as thou pretendest. Thou shalt not plant thy spear in
my back, as I flee before thee; but in my breast, if the
Gods allow it. But now, in thy turn, avoid my spear!"
So spake he, and smote the middle of Achilles' shield
with his long-shafted spear, but it bounded back from
the shield. Then Hector was dismayed, for he had no
second spear to throw. And he called aloud to his
brother, Deiphobus; but no answer came, for he was

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THE SLAYING OF HECTOR

far away. Then Hector knew that he was betrayed,
and that Athene had deceived him, in the likeness of
his brother. " Now," he cried, " is Death come near me,
and there is no way of escape! This is the will of Zeus
and of the Far-Darter, who once were wont to succor
me. But I will not die ingloriously, but yet perform
some notable deed of arms."

He said, and, with his sharp sword, swooped down
upon Achilles. But Achilles rushed at him, wild with
fury, brandishing his spear, with evil intent against
noble Hector, and eyed him over, to see where he might
pierce his flesh most easily. The rest of Hector's body
was protected by the splendid armor which he had
stripped from the body of Patroclus; but there was
one chink, between the collar-bone and the throat,
through which Achilles thrust his spear. Yet it cut not
the windpipe; and Hector was able to speak faint
words to his insulting foe, after he had fallen to the
ground.

Achilles triumphed over him: "Ah, Hector! when
thou wert stripping Patroclus of my goodly armor,
thou caredst nothing for me, who was far away ! I, his
friend and avenger, was left among the black ships —
even I, a mightier man than he! Thee shall the dogs
and birds devour; but he shall have honorable burial."

Then, with his last breath, the noble Hector of the
bright helm addressed his pitiless foe: "Achilles! I
pray thee, by thy soul, and by thy parents' heads, let
not Achaian dogs devour me by the ships! but accept
great store of gold and bronze from my father and my
queenly mother, and restore my body to them, that

253

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

the Trojans may deck my funeral pyre with all due
honor ! "

And Achilles, with a grim scowl, replied, " Clasp
not my knees, vile dog! nor speak to me of parents!
Such evil hast thou done me, that I could devour thee
raw! Not for thy weight in gold would I give thee to
thy queenly mother, to mourn over thee; but dogs and
birds shall batten on thy flesh!"

Then the dying Hector uttered his last words : ' Thou
iron-hearted man! now I know thee; nor did I think
to prevail upon thee. But beware of the wrath of the
Gods, when Paris and the Far-Darter slay thee, at the
Scsean Gate, brave though thou art!"

He spake; and Death overshadowed him; and his
soul went down to Hades, wailing to leave beauty,
youth, and vigor.

And Achilles spake again to the dead Hector: "Lie
thou there! And as for me, I will die when it seemeth
good to the deathless Gods!"

And the Achaians ran up, and looked with wonder
at the noble stature and beauty of the Trojan hero.
And they all inflicted wounds upon him, as he lay,
saying, "He is easier to deal with now than when he
was burning our ships with flames of fire."

And when the son of Peleus had stripped him of
his armor, he stood up, and spake to the Achaians : —

" Great chiefs and counselors of the Argives ! at last
the Gods have granted us to slay this man, whose sin-
gle arm hath wrought more evil to us than all the
rest together. Let us now approach the city, and learn
the purpose of the Trojans; whether they will now

254

THE SLAYING OF HECTOR

surrender the citadel or go on fighting, though great
Hector is no more. But why do I thus ponder in my
mind ? Patroclus is lying unburied and unwept by
the ships. Never can I forget him, while I live; and
even in the House of Hades, I will remember my dearest
friend. Come, then! let us raise the chant of victory,
and bear our deadliest foe to the black ships!"

Then he foully outraged the dead body of glorious
Hector; slitting the sinews of both feet, from heel
to ankle, he passed ox-hide straps through them, and
fastened them to his chariot, leaving the goodly head to
trail upon the ground. Then he laid the armor on the
chariot; and mounting it, lashed his willing horses
to full speed. And in the dust lay the once beautiful
head, with its flowing hair; for Zeus had now given
Hector up to his enemies, to be foully used in his own
native land.

And when his dear mother, Hecuba, saw her much-
loved son dragged along, begrimed with dust, she tore
her hair, and shrieked aloud, and tossed far away her
glistening veil. And his father, King Priam, wailed and
mourned; and with him all the men and women in the
city, as if the beetling towers of Ilium were already
smouldering in fire. Hardly could they keep the aged
father from rushing through the gates; for he threw
himself in the dust and supplicated each man by name :
"O friend, forbear! and if you love me, let me go to
the ships of the Achaians, and pray to this arrogant,
this fearful man!" Thus wailed old Priam; and the
men wailed with him. And Queen Hecuba led the
loud lamentations of the women. 'Why," she cried,

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

"should I yet live, when thou, my son, my boast, my
glory, art dead ? the pride and blessing of all, both
men and women of the city, who honored thee as a
god; for in thy life thou wert an honor to them all!"
Thus mourned his unhappy mother.

But to his wife, the noble, beautiful, tender-hearted
Andromache, no messenger had brought the fearful
tidings that Hector had remained without the gates.
All unconscious, she was sitting in the inner chamber
of her lofty palace, weaving a purple web of double
woof, and embroidering it with many flowers. And
she was ordering her handmaids to prepare a warm
bath for' her dear husband, when he should return from
the battle; poor child! little knowing that the fierce-
eyed Athene had treacherously slain him, by the hand
of Achilles ! But when she heard shrieks and lamenta-
tions from the walls, she reeled, and the shuttle dropped
from her hands. And she spake again to her fair-haired
maidens: "Surely, that was the cry of Hector's noble
mother! Some terrible thing must have befallen my
godlike husband! Come, then, follow me, that I may
learn what has happened; I greatly fear that he has
been cut off from the city by Achilles; for he would
never retreat among the throng, or yield to any man,
in his high courage."

And she rushed, all frantic, through the house, fol-
lowed by her maidens, and came to the walls, and saw
Hector dragged through the dust, towards the black
ships of the Achaians. Then darkness shrouded her
fair eyes, and she fell backwards in a swoon. And
when roused, she tore from her head the net, the fillet,

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THE SLAYING OF HECTOR

and the nuptial veil which golden Venus had given her,
when noble Hector of the shining helm led her forth,
from King Eetion's palace, as his bride. And the
sisters-in-law of her dear husband gathered round her,
and raised her from the ground, all distracted as she
was and nigh unto death. When she had recovered
from her swoon, she sobbed and wailed, crying, "O
Hector! to the same evil fate were we twain born,
thou in Troy, and I in Thebes, where my great father,
Eetion, reared me as a little child. Would that I had
never been born, since thou lea vest me a hapless widow !
And our son, thine and mine, ill-fated one! is but a
little child; and thou canst no more profit him, nor
he be a joy to thee, since thou art dead! A helpless
orphan, he is cut off from his playmates ; and if he pluck
the robe of his father's friends, one may, in pity, just
hold the cup to his lips, but give him not to satisfy
his hunger and his thirst; while other children, whose
parents still live, will drive him from their feast, with
taunts and blows, saying, 'Away with thee! thou hast
no father at our table!' Then will he come back to
me, his lonely mother; he, who so lately sat on his
father's knee, and fed on the choicest of food! and
when sleep fell upon him, tired with his childish play,
he nestled in a soft bed in his nurse's arms. But now
that his father is no more, he shall suffer untold griefs,
even he whom the Trojans called 'Astyanax,' king of
the city, because thou, O my beloved lord! wert the
sole defense and glory of their lofty walls." Thus wailed
the fair Andromache; and the women moaned around
her.

THE FUNERAL GAMES IN HONOR
OF PATROCLUS

By Walter C. Perry

THE noble Achilles could not do enough in honor
of his lost friend, Patroclus, and he had deter-
mined to hold games, of every kind, in which the mail-
clad Achaians might compete for prizes; and to this
end he had brought goodly treasures from his ships,
— tripods, and caldrons, horses, mules, and oxen,
well-girdled women, and hoary iron. The first and
most important contest was a chariot race, for which
he offered a woman skilled in needlework, and a two-
handled tripod, holding two-and-twenty measures —
these, for the best man of all; the second prize was a
mare, six years old, with a mule foal; the third prize
was a fair new caldron, of four measures; the fourth
was two talents of bright gold; the fifth was a two-
handled vase, untarnished by the fire.

And Achilles addressed the chiefs, and said, " If
the race were in honor of some other warrior, then
should I enter the lists, and bear away the prize; for
ye know that my horses are immortal, and by far the
best; Neptune, the Earth-Girdler, gave them to my
father, and he to me. But I and they will stand aside;
for they have lost a noble and gentle driver, who oft-
times washed them with clear water and then poured

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FUNERAL GAMES FOR PATROCLUS

soft oil upon their goodly manes ! And now they stand
with sorrow in their breasts, and their full long manes
are trailing on the earth. But now, let whoever of you
trusteth in his horses and his strong chariot take his
place in the lists!"

And first came forward Eumelus, son of Admetus;
next came the mighty Diomedes, with the famous
horses of Tros, which he had taken from ^Eneas ; then
arose Menelaus, - - the fair-haired, godlike Menelaus,
with Aithe, Agamemnon's mare, and his own horse,
Podargus; and the fourth was Antilochus, son of the
wise Nestor, who yoked swift Pylian horses to his chariot.

His father Nestor, son of Neleus, stood by Antilochus,
and gave him good advice, although he himself was
wise. "Antilochus, my son," he said, "though thou
art young, yet Zeus and Neptune have loved thee, and
made thee a perfect horseman; and there is little need
for me to teach thee. But the other horses are better
than thine; and I fear that much trouble is in store
for thee. But skill and cunning are better than force,
and so one charioteer defeats another. Look well to
the posts at either end, and run closely by them. Now
I will tell thee another thing. Some six feet above the
ground, there stands the withered stump of a tree,
with two white stones, on either side; this is the mark
fixed by the swift-footed Achilles. Do thou drive thy
horses hard by this, and lean slightly to the left, and
lash the off horse and give him rein; but let the near
horse so closely skirt the post that the nave of the wheel
of thy car may seem to graze the stone; but beware of
touching it!"

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

Next, Meriones made ready his chariot; and so
did the others. Then they mounted their cars, and drew
lots for their places. Great Diomedes drew the best.
Achilles ranged them all side by side, and pointed to
the turning-post, in the plain, near which he posted
old Phcenix, as umpire.

Then, at a signal from the son of Peleus, they raised
their long whips, together, standing upright, and lashed
their horses, and encouraged them by hand and voice.
And the chariots now ran evenly on the ground, and
now bounded high in air. But when they entered the
last part of the course, driving towards the sea, the
fleet mares of Eumelus, grandson of Pheres, rushed
to the front; and next came Diomedes, with the stallions
of Tros, so near that they seemed to be mounting the
car of Eumelus, and with their hot breath covered
his back and shoulders. Then Tydides would either
have gained a victory, or it would have been at least
a dead heat; but Phcebus Apollo was angry with him,
and dashed his shining whip from his hand. He shed
hot tears of fury, when he saw that the mares of Eumelus
were still at their utmost speed, while his own horses
slackened their speed, no longer feeling the lash. But,
luckily for Diomedes, his constant friend Athene
marked the trick of Apollo; and, speeding after Dio-
medes, she gave him back the scourge, and put fresh
mettle into his steeds. She then pursued Eumelus, and
brake the yoke of his horses; they bolted from the
course, and he w~as hurled off his car into the dust.
Meanwhile, Tydides rushed on before the others, for
Athene was shedding glory on his head.

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FUNERAL GAMES FOR PATROCLUS

Next to him ran the horses of Menelaus, son of
Atreus. Then came Antilochus, son of Nestor, who
spake thus to his father's Pylian horses : " I do not
ask you to contend with Tydides, whose horses Athene
herself is speeding; but I pray you to catch up the char-
iot of Atrides; and be not beaten by Aithe, lest she,
who is only a mare, pour ridicule upon you." Thus
spake Antilochus, and his horses were afraid, and sped
on more swiftly. But Antilochus noted a narrow gully,
where the rain had collected and had carried away
a part of the course. There Menelaus was driving,
when Antilochus turned his horses out of the way,
and followed him at one side. Then Menelaus, fear-
ing a collision, shouted loudly to the son of Nestor:
"Antilochus, hold in thy horses! and drive not so
recklessly ! close ahead there is a wider space, where
we can pass one another!" But Antilochus, as if he
heard him not, drove on more madly than ever and
plied the lash; and the golden-haired son of Atreus
called again to him, reproving him : " Antilochus,
there is no man more spiteful than thou; away with
thee ! wrongly have we called thee wise ! " Then he
called on his horses, and they increased their speed,
fearing the anger of their lord, and quickly overtook
the others.

Now the Argive chiefs sat together, watching the
race as the chariots flew along the course. The first
to see them coming was Idomeneus, the Cretan prince,
the son of Deucalion; he was sitting apart from the
rest on the highest place, and he could distinguish
the voices of the drivers. He noticed a chestnut horse,

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

As,

with a white star on his forehead, round like the full
moon; and he stood up and spake: "Friends and
Counselors of the Argives! can ye see the horses as I
do ? To me, there appeareth a new chariot and horses;
and the mares which led at the start I can no longer see."

Then the son of Oi'leus, Ajax, rebuked him in boor-
ish fashion: :'Idomeneus, why chatterest thou before
the time ? Thou art not one of the youngest, nor are thine
eyes of the sharpest. The same mares of Eumelus are
still leading, and he is standing up in the chariot."

And the great chief, Idomeneus, answered in great
wrath, "Ajax, ever ready to abuse, inconsiderate slan-
derer! thou art in all respects inferior to the other
Argives, for thy mind is rude."

Thus spoke the Cretan hero. And the son of Oileus
rose again, to reply with scornful words; but Achilles
himself stood forward and said, "No longer, Ido-
meneus and Ajax, bandy insulting words with one
another; for it is not meet! Sit ye still, and watch;
and soon will ye know which horses are leading."
He spake; and straightway Tydides came driving up
in his fair chariot, overlaid with gold and tin, which
ran lightly behind the horses, and scarcely left a trace
in the fine dust of the plain. Checking his horses in
the middle of the crowd, he leapt to the ground and
claimed the splendid prize; and the gallant Sthenelus
made no delay, but gave to his victorious comrade
the woman and the tripod to bear away.

Next to Diomedes came the son of Nestor, Antilo-
chus, who had passed by Menelaus by a clever strata-
gem, though his horses were inferior; but even so,

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FUNERAL GAMES FOR PATROCLUS

Menelaus had pressed him hard, and was behind him
only so far as a horse is from the wheel of the chariot
which he draweth.

But Meriones, the brave charioteer of Idomeneus,
came in about the cast of a lance behind Menelaus;
for his horses were the slowest, and he was himself
but a sluggish driver. Last of all came Eumelus, the
son of Admetus, dragging his broken chariot. The
swift-footed Achilles, son of Peleus, pitied him, and
spake winged words to the chiefs : ' Lo ! the best man
of all comes last; but let us give him a prize --the
second! And let Tydides bear away the first!"

All the Achaians heard him, and shouted applause;
and the noble Achilles would have given him the mare
had not Antilochus, son of the wise and glorious Nestor,
stood up in defense of his claim: " O Achilles !" he
said, "justly shall I be wroth with thee, if thou takest
away the prize which I have fairly won. Thou thinkest
only of the unlucky chance which hath befallen Eume-
lus and his horses; but he ought to have made prayer
to the deathless Gods, and then he would not have
come in last of all. If thou pitiest him, there is much
treasure in thy house, — gold, and bronze, and sheep,
and handmaids, and horses. Give him, if it pleaseth
thee and the Achaians, a still richer prize. But I will
not give up the mare; for she is mine."

And Achilles smiled on his comrade Antilochus,
whom he dearly loved, and answered him, "Anti-
lochus, I will do as thou sayest: I will give him the
bronze cuirass, edged with shining tin, which I took
from Asteropseus."

263

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

But the great Menelaus arose, filled with insatiable
wrath against Antilochus. The herald placed a sceptre
in his hand, and called for silence. Then the godlike
king made harangue, and said, "Antilochus! thou
who wert once accounted wise - - what is this that
thou hast done ? Thou hast disgraced my skill, and
discomfited my horses, by thrusting thine, wThich are
far worse, in front of them. Come then, great chiefs
of the Argives! give judgment, without favor, between
him and me! That no one may say hereafter, that ye
favored me for my power and rank, I will myself set
the issue before you; so that no one may reproach me.
Stand forth, Antilochus, before thy chariot; and take
thy whip, and lay thy hand upon thy horses, and swear
by the great Girdler and Shaker of the Earth, that
thou didst not, by set purpose and malice, hinder my
chariot in the course!"

Then Antilochus made prudent answer, " Be patient
writh me, King Menelaus ! for I am younger, and thou
art in all respects my better. Bear with me, then;
and I will myself give thee the mare, my prize, rather
than lose my place in thy heart, O thou beloved of
Zeus!" Thus spake the noble-minded son of Nestor;
and he gave the mare to Menelaus, king of men.

And the heart of the son of Atreus rejoiced, as the
ripe ears of corn, when the dew descendeth upon them,
in the glistening cornfield. And he spake kindly to
Antilochus, and said, " Lo ! at once do I put away my
anger; for of old thou wert never rash or light-minded;
but now thy reason was overborne by the impetuosity
of youth. Therefore I grant thy prayer, and will even

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FUNERAL GAMES FOR PATROCLUS

give thee the mare; for I am in no wise covetous or
unforgiving."

He spake, and gave the mare to Noemon, the com-
rade of Antilochus, to lead away; but he took the bright
caldron to himself. And Meriones, who came in fourth,
took the two talents of gold. But the fifth prize, a vase
with two handles, was not obtained; and the noble
Achilles gave this to Nestor, and, standing by him,
uttered winged words : —

"Let this, O Father! be for thee an heirloom, and
a memorial of Patroclus' funeral games — of him,
whom thou wilt never see again! I give it to thee
since thou mayest not contend in boxing, nor in wrest-
ling, nor in throwing the lance, nor in the foot-race;
for rueful old age weigheth heavily upon thee."

Nestor gladly received the splendid gift, and spake:
" True and fitting are thy words, dear friend ! My limbs
are no longer sound, nor do my arms move easily from
my shoulders; and I must make way for younger men.
But I accept thy free gift with joy, and rejoice that thou
dost remember our old friendship."

Then Pelides brought forward the prizes for the
rough, fierce boxing-match: a six-year-old unbroken
mule for the winner; and a two-handled goblet for
the loser. Then quickly rose the famous boxer Epeius,
and laid his hand on the stubborn mule, and boasted
aloud: "Let who will bear away the goblet; but the
mule is mine! for no one will beat me with his fists!"
They all kept silence, and feared. Only one came
forward, even Euryalus, the gallant son of King Me-
cistus. The famous warrior Tydides made him ready

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

for the fight, and bade him God speed. The twain
went into the ring, and fell to work; and terrible was
the gnashing of their teeth, and the sweat ran down
from their limbs. Epeius came on fiercely, and struck
Euryalus on the cheek, and that was enough; for all
his limbs were loosened. As a fish on a weedy beach,
in the ripple caused by Boreas, leapeth high in air,
so Euryalus leapt up in his anguish. But the gener-
ous Epeius raised him again to his feet, and his com-
rades led him away, with dragging feet and drooping
head, and spitting out black blood.

Next came the terrible wrestling match; and for
this the glorious Achilles brought out two costly prizes :
for the winner, a fireproof tripod, worth twelve oxen;
and for the loser, a woman skilled in handiwork, val-
ued at four oxen. And he cried aloud to the Achaians,
"Stand forward all ye who will enter into this contest!"

Then rose Telamonian Ajax and the crafty Ulysses,
and faced each other. And they entered the ring, and
grasped each other with their strong hands, like the
rafters of a house, joined by some skillful builder to
withstand the wind. Their backbones grated and
creaked beneath the strain; the sweat poured down
from their limbs, and bloody weals streaked their sides
and shoulders, as they struggled for the well-wrought
tripod. But neither could Ulysses throw the burly Ajax,
nor Ajax him. And when the Achaians grew tired of
the futile contest, Ajax spake to Ulysses: "O thou
offspring of the Gods, Laertes' son! do thou lift me,
or I will lift thee, and the issue wrill be on the lap of
Zeus ! "

266

FUNERAL GAMES FOR PATROCLUS

X

So saying, he raised Ulysses. But the Wily One did
not forget his craft. From behind, he struck the hollow
of Ajax's knee, and threw him on his back; and Ulysses
fell upon him; and the people marveled. Then, in
his turn, Ulysses tried to lift huge Ajax, but could not;
so he thrust his crooked knee into the hollow of the
other's ; and they again both fell to the ground, covered
with dust. When they rose for a third bout, Achilles
restrained them. "No longer wear ye one another out,
with toil and pain! Ye both have won and shall re-
ceive equal prizes!" And they cleansed themselves,
and put on their doublets.

Then the noble son of Peleus offered prizes for the
foot-race; the first, a silver krater holding six measures,
curiously chased by Sidonian artists - - by far the most
beautiful mixing-cup in the whole world. For the
second he offered a stalled ox; and for the third, half a
talent of gold. The wondrous krater Phoenicians had
brought by sea, and given it to Thoas, the ruler of
Lemnos; and Euneus, son of Jason, inherited it from
Jason, who received it from Thoas, his father-in-law;
and Euneus gave it to the hero Patroclus, as a ransom
for Lycaon, son of Priam; this splendid goblet was
offered to the swiftest of foot.

Then three valiant heroes arose: Ajax, son of Oi'leus;
Ulysses, the wily one; and Antilochus, the best runner
of the youths. Achilles ranged them side by side, and
showed them the goal. All started at full speed; but
Ajax soon took the lead; and Ulysses came close be-
hind him, near as the shuttle to the breast of a fair-
girdled woman when she is weaving, --so near that

267

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

his breath was warm on the back of Ajax. But as they
neared the goal, the wily Ulysses prayed to the fierce-
eyed Athene, "O goddess, come and help my feet!"
And Athene heard her favorite, and strengthened all
his limbs. But just as they were about to pounce upon
the prize, Ajax slipped in the blood of the slaughtered
oxen, ancl fell; his mouth and nostrils were filled wTith
dirt and gore. So the patient Ulysses took the price-
less krater, and Ajax the fatted ox. But Ajax, holding
his prize by the horn, and spitting the filth from his
mouth, spake to the Achaians : " O fie upon it ! it was
the goddess who betrayed me; she who is ever near to
Ulysses, as a mother to her child." And the Achaians
laughed merrily, to see him in such a sorry plight.

Antilochus, smiling, took the last prize, half a talent
of gold; and he too spake winged words to the Ar-
gives : " My friends, ye too will agree with me that the
deathless Gods show favor to the older men. Ajax is
a little older than I; but Ulysses is of a former genera-
tion. It were not easy for any one, except Achilles,
fleet of foot, to outrun him."

Achilles was pleased at the honor done to his swift-
ness. "Not unrewarded," he said, "shall the praise
be which thou hast bestowed on me : I give thee another
half-talent of gold." Antilochus received it gladly.
Then the assembly was dissolved, and the Achaians
dispersed, each to his own ship.

THE WOODEN HORSE AND THE
FALL OF TROY

By Josephine Preston Peabody

NINE years the Greeks laid siege to Troy, and
Troy held out against every device. On both
sides the lives of many heroes were spent, and they
were forced to acknowledge each other enemies of
great valor.

Sometimes the chief warriors fought in single com-
bat, while the armies looked on, and the old men of
Troy, with the women, came out to watch afar off
from the city walls. King Priam and Queen Hecuba
would come, and Cassandra, sad writh foreknowledge of
their doom, and Andromache, the lovely young wife
of Hector, with her little son, whom the people called
the city's king. Sometimes fair Helen came to look
across the plain to the fellow-countrymen whom she
had forsaken; and although she was the cause of all
this war, the Trojans half forgave her when she passed
by, because her beauty was like a spell, and warmed
hard hearts as the sunshine mellows apples. So for
nine years the Greeks plundered the neighboring towns,
but the city Troy stood fast, and the Grecian ships
waited with folded wings.

In the tenth year of the war the Greeks, who could
not take the city by force, pondered how they might

269

STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

take it by craft. At length, with the aid of Ulysses,
they devised a plan.

A portion of the Grecian host broke up camp and
set sail as if they were homeward bound; but, once
out of sight, they anchored their ships behind a neigh-
boring island. The rest of the army then fell to work
upon a great image of a horse. They built it of wood,
fitted and carved, and with a door so cunningly con-
cealed that none might notice it. When it was finished
the horse looked like a prodigious idol; but it was
hollow, skillfully pierced here and there, and so spacious
that a band of men could lie hidden within and take
no harm. . Into this hiding-place went Ulysses, Mene-
laus, and the other chiefs, fully armed, and when the
door was shut upon them, the rest of the Grecian
army broke camp and went away.

Meanwhile, in Troy, the people had seen the depar-
ture of the ships, and the news had spread like wild-
fire. The great enemy had lost heart, - - after ten
years of war ! Part of the army had gone, - - the rest
were going. Already the last of the ships had set
sail, and the camp was deserted. The tents that had
whitened the plain were gone like a frost before the
sun. The war was over!

The whole city went wild with joy. Like one who
has been a prisoner for many years, it flung off all
restraint, and the people rose as a single man to test
the truth of new liberty. The gates were thrown wide,
and the Trojans - - men, women, and children -
thronged over the plain and into the empty camp of
the enemy. There stood the Wooden Horse.

270

A GREAT IMAGE OF A HORSE. THEY BUILT IT OF WOOD,
FITTED AND CARVED, AND WITH A DOOR SO CUNNINGLY
CONCEALED THAT NONE MIGHT NOTICE IT. WHEN IT WAS
FINISHED THE HORSE LOOKED LIKE A PRODIGIOUS IDOL, BUT
IT WAS HOLLOW, SKILLFULLY PIERCED HERE AND THERE

THE WOODEN HORSE

•^-

No one knew what it could be. Fearful at first,
they gathered around it, as children gather around a
live horse; they marveled at its wondrous height and
girth, and were for moving it into the city as a trophy
of war.

At this, one man interposed, - - Laocoon, a priest of
Neptune. 'Take heed, citizens," said he. ;< Beware
of all that comes from the Greeks. Have you fought
them for ten years without learning their devices ?
This is some piece of treachery."

But there was another outcry in the crowd, and at
that moment certain of the Trojans dragged forward
a wretched man who wore the garments of a Greek.
He seemed the sole remnant of the Grecian army, and
as such they consented to spare his life, if he would
tell them the truth.

Sinou, for this was the spy's name, said that he had
been left behind by the malice of Ulysses, and he told
them that the Greeks had built the Wooden Horse
as an offering to Athene, and that they had made it
so huge in order to keep it from being moved out of
the camp, since it was destined to bring triumph to
its possessors.

At this the joy of the Trojans was redoubled, and
they set their wits to find out how they might soonest
drag the great horse across the plain and into the city
to insure victory. While they stood talking, two im-
mense serpents rose out of the sea and made towards
the camp. Some of the people took flight, others were
transfixed with terror; but all, near and far, watched
this new omen. Rearing their crests, the sea-serpents

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STORIES OF THE TROJAN WAR

crossed the shore, swift, shining, terrible as a risen
water-flood that descends upon a helpless little town.
Straight through the crowd they swept, and seized the
priest Laocoon where he stood, with his two sons,
and wrapped them all round and round in fearful
coils. There was no chance of escape. Father and
sons perished together; and when the monsters had
devoured the three men, into the sea they slipped again,
leaving no trace of the horror.

The terrified Trojans saw an omen in this. To
their minds punishment had come upon Laocoon for
his words against the Wooden Horse. Surely, it was
sacred to the Gods; he had spoken blasphemy, and
had perished before their eyes. They flung his warn-
ing to the winds. They wreathed the horse with gar-
lands, amid great acclaim; and then, all lending a
hand, they dragged it, little by little, out of the camp
and into the city of Troy. With the close of that vic-
torious day, they gave up every memory of danger and
made merry after ten years of privation.

That very night Sinon the spy opened the hidden
door of the Wooden Horse, and in the darkness, Ulys-
ses, Menelaus, and the other chiefs who had lain
hidden there crept out and gave the signal to the
Grecian army. For, under cover of night, those ships
that had been moored behind the island had sailed
back again, and the Greeks were come upon Troy.

Not a Trojan was on guard. The whole city was
at feast when the enemy rose in its midst, and the
warning of Laocoon was fulfilled.

Priam and his warriors fell by the sword, and their

272

THE WOODEN HORSE

kingdom was plundered of all its fair possessions,
women and children and treasure. Last of all, the
city itself was burned to its very foundations.

Homeward sailed the Greeks, taking as royal cap-
tives poor Cassandra and Andromache and many
another Trojan. And home at last went fair Helen,
the cause of all this sorrow, eager to be forgiven by
her husband, King Menelaus. For she had awakened
from the enchantment of Venus, and even before the
death of Paris she had secretly longed for her home
and kindred. Home to Sparta she came with the king
after a long and stormy voyage, and there she lived
and died the fairest of women.

But the kingdom of Troy was fallen. Nothing re-
mained of all its glory but the glory of its dead heroes
and fair women, and the ruins of its citadel by the
river Scamander. There even now, beneath the foun-
dations of later homes that were built and burned, built
and burned, in the wars of a thousand years after,
the ruins of ancient Troy lie hidden, like mouldered
leaves deep under the new grass. And there, to this
very day, men who love the story are delving after
the dead city as you might search for a buried trea-
sure.

THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

AN ADVENTURE WITH THE

CYCLOPS

By Alfred J. Church

[After the fall of Troy the Greeks set out for home,
but many of them had troubles and dangers to meet
before they saw again the shores of their native land.
The one who suffered most was Ulysses, and the follow-
ing is his story of his adventure with the one-eyed
giant, the Cyclops.]

THE wind that bore me from Troy brought me to
Ismarus, a city of the Ciconians. This I sacked,
slaying the people that dwelt therein. Much spoil did
we take out of the city, dividing it among the people,
so that each man had his share. And when we had
done this, I commanded my men that they should
depart with all speed; but they, in their folly, would
not hear me. For there was much wine to drink, and
sheep and kine to slay; therefore they sat on the shore
and feasted. Meanwhile the people of the city fetched
others, their kinsmen that dwelt in the mountains, and
were more in number and more valiant than they, and
skillful in all manner of fighting. In the early morning
they assembled themselves together, thick as the flowers
and the leaves that grow in the springtime, and set the
battle in array. Then we fought with them; while

277

THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

the day waxed we prevailed over them, and beat them
back, though they were more in number than we;
but when the sun was descending in the heavens, then
the Cicones overcame us, and drave us to our ships.
Six from each ship perished, but the remnant of us
escaped from death.

On the tenth day after this we came to the land
where the lotus grows - - a wondrous fruit of which
whosoever eats cares not to see country or wife or chil-
dren again. Now the Lotus-Eaters, for they so called
the people of the land, were a kindly folk, and gave
of the fruit to some of the sailors, not meaning them
any harm, but thinking it to be the best that they had
to give. These, when they had eaten, said that they
would not sail any more over the sea; which, when
I heard, I bade their comrades bind them and carry
them, sadly complaining, to the ships.

Then, the wind having abated, we took to our oars,
and rowed for many days till we came to the country
where the Cyclops dwell. Now, a mile or so from the
shore there was an island, very fair and fertile, but no
man dwells there or tills the soil, and in the island
a harbor where a ship may be safe from all winds,
and at the head of the harbor a stream falling from a
rock, and whispering alders all about it. Into this the
ships passed safely, and were hauled up on the beach,
and the crews slept by them, waiting for the morning.

When the dawn appeared, then we wandered through
the island; and the nymphs of the land started the
wild goats that my company might have food to eat.
Thereupon we took our bows and our spears from the

278

AN ADVENTURE WITH THE CYCLOPS

ships, and shot at the goats ; and the Gods gave us plenty
of prey. Twelve ships I had in my company, and each
ship had nine goats for its share, and my own portion
was ten. «

Then all the day we sat and feasted, drinking the
sweet wine which we had taken from the city of the
Cicones, and eating the flesh of the goats; and as we
sat we looked across to the land of the Cyclops, see-
ing the smoke and hearing the voices of the men and
of the sheep and of the goats. And when the sun set
and darkness came over the land, we lay down upon
the seashore and slept.

The next day I gathered my men together, and
said, "Abide ye here, dear friends; I with my own ship
and my own company will go and make trial of the
folk that dwell in yonder island, whether they are just
or unjust."

So I climbed into my ship, and bade my company
follow me; so we came to the land of the Cyclops.
Close to the shore was a cave, with laurels round about
the mouth. This was the dwelling of the Cyclops.
Alone he dwelt, a creature without law. Nor was he
like to mortal men, but rather to some wooded peak
of the hills that stands out apart from all the rest.

Then I bade the rest of my comrades abide by the
ship, and keep it, but I took twelve men, the bravest
that there were in the crew, and went forth. I had with
me a goat-skin full of the wine, dark red, and sweet,
which the priest of Apollo at Ismarus had given me.
Because we kept him and his wife and child from harm
when we sacked the city, reverencing the god, there-

279

THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

fore did he give it me. Three things did he give me,
— seven talents of gold, and a mixing-bowl of silver,
and of wine twelve jars. So precious was it that none
in his house knew of it saving himself and his wife and
one dame that kept the house. When they drank of
it they mixed twenty measures of water with one of wine,
and the smell that went up from it was wondrous sweet.
No man could easily refrain from drinking it. With
this wine I filled a great skin and bore it with me; also
I bare corn in a wallet, for my heart within me boded
that I should need it.

So we entered the cave, and judged that it was the
dwelling of some rich and skillful shepherd. For within
there were pens for the young of the sheep and of the
goats, divided all according to their age, and there
were baskets full of cheeses, and full milkpails ranged
along the wall. But the Cyclops himself was away
in the pastures. Then my companions besought me
that I would depart, taking with me, if I would, a store
of cheeses and sundry of the lambs and of the kids.
But I would not, for I wished to see, after my wont,
what manner of host this strange shepherd might be,
and, if it might be, to take a gift from his hand, such as
is the due of strangers. Verily, his coming was not to
be a joy to my company.

It was evening when the Cyclops came home, —
a mighty giant, very tall of stature, and when we saw
him we fled into the sacred place of the cave in great
fear. On his shoulder he bore a vast bundle of pine
logs for his fire, and threw them down outside the
cave with a great crash, and drove the flocks within,

280

AN ADVENTURE WITH THE CYCLOPS

and closed the entrance with a huge rock, which twenty
wagons and more could not bear. Then he milked
the ewes and all the she-goats, and half of the milk
he curdled for cheese, and half he set ready for him-
self, when he should sup. Next he kindled a fire with
the pine logs, and the flame lighted up all the cave,
showing to him both me and my comrades.

"Who are ye?" cried Polyphemus, for that was the
giant's name. "Are ye traders, or, haply, pirates?"

I shuddered at the dreadful voice and shape, but
bare me bravely, and answered, "We are no pirates,
mighty sir, but Greeks sailing back from Troy, and
subjects of the great King Agamemnon, whose fame
is spread from one end of heaven to the other. And
we are come to beg hospitality of thee in the name of
Zeus, who rewards or punishes hosts and guests, ac-
cording as they be faithful the one to the other, or no."

"Nay," said the giant; "it is but idle talk to tell
me of Zeus and the other Gods. We Cyclops take no
account of gods, holding ourselves to be much better
and stronger than they. But come, tell me, where have
you left your ship?"

But I saw his thought when he asked about the ship,
how he was minded to break it, and take from us all
hope of flight. Therefore I answered him craftily, —

" Ship have we none, for that which was ours King
Neptune brake, driving it on a jutting rock on this
coast, and we whom thou seest are all that are escaped
from the waves."

Polyphemus answered nothing, but without more
ado caught up two of the men, as a man might catch

281

THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

up the whelps of a dog, and dashed them on the ground,
and tare them limb from limb, and devoured them,
with huge draughts of milk between, leaving not a mor-
sel, not even the very bones. But we that were left,
when we saw the dreadful deed, could only weep and
pray to Zeus for help. And when the giant had filled
his maw with human flesh and with the milk of the
flocks, he lay down among his sheep and slept.

Then I questioned much in my heart whether I
should slay the monster as he slept, for I doubted
not that my good sword would pierce to the giant's
heart, mighty as he was. But my second thought kept
me back, for I remembered that, should I slay him,
I and my comrades would yet perish miserably. For
who should move away the great rock that lay against
the door of the cave ? So we waited till the morning,
with grief in our hearts. And the monster woke, and
milked his flocks, and afterwards, seizing two men,
devoured them for his meal. Then he went to the
pastures, but put the great rock on the mouth of the
cave, just as a man puts down the lid upon his quiver.

All that day I was thinking what I might best do
to save myself and my companions, and the end of
my thinking was this: there was a mighty pole in
the cave, green wood of an olive-tree, big as a ship's
mast, which Polyphemus purposed to use, when the
smoke should have dried it, as a walking-staff. Of this
I cut off a fathom's length, and my comrades sharpened
it and hardened it in the fire, and then hid it away.
At evening the giant came back, and drove his sheep
into the cave, nor left the rams outside, as he had been

282

AN ADVENTURE WITH THE CYCLOPS

wont to do before, but shut them in. And having duly
done his shepherd's work, he took, as before, two of
my comrades, and devoured them. And when he had
finished his supper, I came forward, holding the wine-
skin in my hand, and said, —

" Drink, Cyclops, now that thou hast feasted. Drink,
and see what precious things we had in our ship. But
no one hereafter will come to thee with such like, if
thou dealest with strangers as cruelly as thou hast dealt
wTith us."

Then the Cyclops drank, and was mightily pleased,
and said, "Give me again to drink, and tell me thy
name, stranger, and I will give thee a gift such as a host
should give. In good truth this is a rare liquor. We,
too, have vines, but they bear not wine like this, which,
indeed, must be such as the Gods drink in heaven."

Then I gave him the cup again, and he drank. Thrice
I gave it to him, and thrice he drank, not knowing what
it was, and how it would work within his brain.

Then I spake to him: "Thou didst ask my name,
Cyclops. My name is No Man. And now that thou
knowest my name, thou shouldst give me thy gift."

And he said, " My gift shall be that I will eat thee
last of all thy company."

And as he spake, he fell back in a drunken sleep.
Then I bade my comrades be of good courage, for
the time was come when thev should be delivered.

•/

And thev thrust the stake of olive-wood into the fire

V

till it was ready, green as it was, to burst into flame,
and they thrust it into the monster's eye; for he had
but one eye, and that in the midst of his forehead,

283

THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

with the eyebrow below it. And I, standing above,
leant with all my force upon the stake, and turned it
about, as a man bores the timber of a ship with a drill.
And the burning wood hissed in the eye, just as the
red-hot iron hisses in the water when a man seeks to
temper steel for a sword.

Then the giant leapt up, and tore away the stake,
and cried aloud, so that all the Cyclops who dwelt
on the mountain-side heard him and came about his
cave, asking him, " What aileth thee, Polyphemus, that
thou makest this uproar in the peaceful night, driving
away sleep ? Is any one robbing thee of thy sheep, or
seeking to slay thee by craft or force ? "

And the giant answered, "No Man slays me by
craft."

"Nay, but," they said, "if no man does thee wrong
we cannot help thee. The sickness which great Zeus
may send, who can avoid ? Pray to our father, Nep-
tune, for help."

So they spake, and I laughed in my heart when I
saw how I had beguiled them by the name that I had
given.

But the Cyclops rolled away the great stone from
the door of the cave, and sat in the midst, stretching
out his hands, to feel whether perchance the men
within the cave would seek to go out among the sheep.

Long did I think how I and my comrades should
best escape. At last I lighted upon a device that seemed
better than all the rest, and much I thanked Zeus for
that this once the giant had driven the rams with the
other sheep into the cave. For, these being great and

284

AN ADVENTURE WITH THE CYCLOPS

strong, I fastened my comrades under the bellies of the
beasts, tying them with osier twigs, of which the giant
made his bed. One ram I took, and fastened a man
beneath it, and two rams I set, one on either side.
So I did with the six, for but six were left out of the
twelve who had ventured with me from the ship. And
there was one mighty ram far larger than all the others,
and to this I clung, grasping the fleece tight with both
my hands. So we all waited for the morning. And when
the morning came, the rams rushed forth to the pas-
ture; but the giant sat in the door and felt the back
of each as it went by, nor thought to try what might
be underneath. Last of all went the great ram. And
the Cyclops knew him as he passed, and said, —

" How is this, thou who art the leader of the flock ?
Thou art not wont thus to lag behind. Thou hast
always been the first to run to the pastures and streams
in the morning, and the first to come back to the fold
when evening fell; and now thou art last of all. Per-
haps thou art troubled about thy master's eye, which
some wretch - - No Man, they call him - - has destroyed,
having first mastered me with wine. He has not es-
caped, I ween. I would that thou couldst speak, and
tell me where he is lurking. Of a truth, I would dash
out his brains upon the ground, and avenge me of
this No Man."

So speaking, he let the ram pass out of the cave.
But when we were now out of reach of the giant, I
loosed my hold of the ram, and then unbound my com-
rades. And we hastened to our ship, not forgetting
to drive the sheep before us, and often looking back

285

THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

till we came to the seashore. Right glad were those
that had abode by the ship to see us. Nor did they
lament for those that had died, though we were fain to
do so, for I forbade, fearing lest the noise of their weep-
ing should betray us to the giant, where we were. Then
we all climbed into the ship, and sitting well in order
on the benches smote the sea with our oars, laying
to right lustily, that we might the sooner get away
from the accursed land. And when we had rowed a
hundred yards or so, so that a man's voice could yet
be heard by one who stood upon the shore, I stood up
in the ship and shouted, -

"He was no coward, O Cyclops, whose comrades
thou didst so foully slay in thy den. Justly art thou
punished, monster, that devourest thy guests in thy
dwelling. May the Gods make thee suffer worse things
than these!"

Then the Cyclops in his wrath brake off the top
of a great hill, a mighty rock, and hurled it where he
had heard the voice. Right in front of the ship's bow
it fell, and a great wave rose as it sank, and washed the
ship back to the shore. But I seized a l6ng pole with
both hands, and pushed the ship from the land, and
bade my comrades ply their oars, nodding with my
head, for I would not speak, lest the Cyclops should
know where we were. Then they rowed with all their
might and main.

And when we had gotten twice as far as before
I made as if I would speak again; but my comrades
sought to hinder me, saying, " Nay, my lord, anger not
the giant any more. Surely we thought we were lost

286

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AN ADVENTURE WITH THE CYCLOPS

before, when he threw the great rock, and washed our
ship back to the shore. And if he hear thee now, he
may crush our ship and us, for the man throws a mighty
bolt, and throws it far."

But I would not be persuaded, but stood up and
said, "Hear, Cyclops! If any man ask who blinded
thee, say that it was the warrior Ulysses, son of Laertes,
dwelling in Ithaca."

CIRCE'S PALACE

By Nathaniel Hawthorne

i

AT one time in the course of Ulysses' weary voy-
age, he arrived at an island that looked very
green and pleasant, but the name of which was
unknown to him. For, only a little while before he
came thither, he had met with a terrible hurricane, or
rather a great many hurricanes at once, which drove
his fleet of vessels into a strange part of the sea,
where neither himself nor any of his mariners had
ever sailed. This misfortune was entirely owing to the
foolish curiosity of his shipmates, who, while Ulysses
lay asleep, had untied some very bulky leathern bags,
in which they supposed a valuable treasure to be con-
cealed. But in each of these stout bags, King ^Eolus,
the ruler of the winds, had tied up a tempest, and had
given it to Ulysses to keep, in order that he might be
sure of a favorable passage homeward to Ithaca; and
when the strings were loosened, forth rushed the whist-
ling blasts, like air out of a blown bladder, whitening
the sea with foam, and scattering the vessels nobody
could tell whither.

Immediately after escaping from this peril, a still
greater one had befallen him. Scudding before the
hurricane, he reached a place which, as he afterwards
found, was called Lsestrygonia, where some monstrous

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giants had eaten up many of his companions, and had
sunk every one of his vessels, except that in which
he himself sailed, by flinging great masses of rock
at them, from the cliffs along the shore. After going
through such troubles as these, you cannot wonder
that King Ulysses was glad to moor his tempest-beaten
bark in a quiet cove of the green island, which I be-
gan with telling you about. But he had encountered
so many dangers from giants, and one-eyed Cyclops,
and monsters of the sea and land, that he could not
help dreading some mischief, even in this pleasant and
seemingly solitary spot. For two days, therefore, the
poor weather-worn voyagers kept quiet, and either
stayed on board of their vessel or merely crept along
under cliffs that bordered the shore; and to keep
themselves alive, they dug shell-fish out of the sand,
and sought for any little rill of fresh water that might
be running towards the sea.

Before the two days were spent, they grew very
weary of this kind of life; for the followers of King
Ulysses, as you will find it important to remember,
were terrible gormandizers, and pretty sure to grum-
ble if they missed their regular meals, and their irregu-
lar ones besides. Their stock of provisions was quite
exhausted, and even the shell-fish began to get scarce,
so that they had now to choose between starving to
death or venturing into the interior of the island,
where, perhaps, some huge three-headed dragon or
other horrible monster had his den. Such misshapen
creatures were very numerous in those days; and
nobody ever expected to make a voyage or take a

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THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

journey without running more or less risk of being
devoured by them.

But King Ulysses was a bold man as well as a pru-
dent one; and on the third morning he determined
to discover what sort of a place the island was, and
whether it were possible to obtain a supply of food for
the hungry mouths of his companions. So, taking a
spear in his hand, he clambered to the summit of a
cliff, and gazed round about him. At a distance, to-
wards the centre of the island, he beheld the stately
towers of what seemed to be a palace, built of snow-
white marble, and rising in the midst of a grove of
lofty trees. The thick branches of these trees stretched
across the front of the edifice, and more than half
concealed it, although, from the portion which he saw,
Ulysses judged it to be spacious and exceedingly beau-
tiful, and probably the residence of some great noble-
man or prince. A blue smoke went curling up from
the chimney, and was almost the pleasantest part of
the spectacle to Ulysses. For, from the abundance of
this smoke, it was reasonable to conclude that there
was a good fire in the kitchen, and that, at dinner-
time, a plentiful banquet would be served up to the
inhabitants of the palace, and to whatever guests might
happen to drop in.

With so agreeable a prospect before him, Ulysses
fancied that he could not do better than to go straight
to the palace gate, and tell the master of it that there
was a crew of poor shipwrecked mariners, not far off,
who had eaten nothing for a day or two save a few
clams and oysters, and would therefore be thankful

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for a little food. And the prince or nobleman must
be a very stingy curmudgeon, to be sure, if, at least,
when his own dinner was over, he would not bid them
welcome to the broken victuals from the table.

Pleasing himself with this idea, King Ulysses had
made a few steps in the direction of the palace, when
there was a great twittering and chirping from the
branch of a neighboring tree. A moment afterwards,
a bird came flying towards him, and hovered in the
air, so as almost to brush his face with its wings. It
was a very pretty little bird, with purple wings and
body, and yellow legs, and a circle of golden feathers
round its neck, and on its head a golden tuft, which
looked like a king's crown in miniature. Ulysses tried
to catch the bird. But it fluttered nimbly out of his
reach, still chirping in a piteous tone, as if it could
have told a lamentable story, had it only been gifted
with human language. And when he attempted to
drive it away, the bird flew no farther than the bough
of the next tree, and again came fluttering about his
head, with its doleful chirp, as soon as he showed a
purpose of going forward.

" Have you anything to tell me, little bird ? " asked
Ulysses.

And he was ready to listen attentively to whatever
the bird might communicate ; for at the siege of Troy
and elsewhere he had known such odd things to hap-
pen that he would not have considered it much out of
the common run had this little feathered creature talked
as plainly as himself.

"Peep!" said the bird. 'Peep, peep, pe — weep!"

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THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

And nothing else would it say, but only, " Peep, peep,
pe — weep!" in a melancholy cadence, and over and
over and over again. As often as Ulysses moved for-
ward, however, the bird showed the greatest alarm,
and did its best to drive him back, with the anxious
flutter of its purple wings. Its unaccountable behavior
made him conclude, at last, that the bird knew of some
danger that awaited him, and which must needs be
very terrible, beyond all question, since it moved even
a little fowl to feel compassion for a human being. So
he resolved, for the present, to return to the vessel, and
tell his companions what he had seen.

This appeared to satisfy the bird. As soon as Ulys-
ses turned back, it ran up the trunk of a tree, and
began to pick insects out of the bark with its long,
sharp bill; for it was a kind of woodpecker, you must
know, and had to get its living in the same manner as
other birds of that species. But every little while,
as it pecked at the bark of the tree, the purple bird
bethought itself of some secret sorrow, and repeated
its plaintive note of 'Peep, peep, pe — weep!"

On his way to the shore, Ulysses had the good luck
to kill a large stag by thrusting his spear into its back.
Taking it on his shoulders (for he was a remarkably
strong man), he lugged it along with him, and flung
it down before his hungry companions. I have already
hinted to you what gormandizers some of the com-
rades of King Ulysses were. From what is related of
them, I reckon that their favorite diet was pork, and
that they had lived upon it until a good part of their
physical substance was swine's flesh, and their tempers

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and dispositions were very much akin to the hog. A
dish of venison, however, was no unacceptable meal
to them, especially after feeding so long on oysters
and clams. So, beholding the dead stag, they felt of
its ribs in a knowing way, and lost no time in kindling
a fire, of drift-wood, to cook it. The rest of the day
was spent in feasting; and if these enormous eaters
got up from table at sunset, it was only because they
could not scrape another morsel off the poor animal's
bones.

The next morning their appetites were as sharp as
ever. They looked at Ulysses, as if they expected him
to clamber up the cliff again, and come back with
another fat deer upon his shoulders. Instead of set-
ting out, however, he summoned the whole crew to-
gether, and told them it was in vain to hope that he
could kill a stag every day for their dinner, and there-
fore it was advisable to think of some other mode of
satisfying their hunger.

"Now," said he, "when I was on the cliff yesterday,
I discovered that this island is inhabited. At a consider-
able distance from the shore stood a marble palace,
which appeared to be very spacious, and had a great
deal of smoke curling out of one of its chimneys."

"Aha!" muttered some of his companions, smacking
their lips. 'That smoke must have come from the
kitchen fire. There was a good dinner on the spit;
and no doubt there will be as good a one to-day."

'But," continued the wise Ulysses, "you must re-
member, my good friends, our misadventure in the
cavern of one-eyed Polyphemus, the Cyclops! Instead

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THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

of his ordinary milk diet, did he not eat up two of
our comrades for his supper, and a couple more for
breakfast, and two at his supper again ? Methinks I
see him yet, the hideous monster, scanning us with
that great red eye, in the middle of his forehead, to
single out the fattest. And then again, only a few days
ago, did we not fall into the hands of the king of the
Laestrygons, and those other horrible giants, his sub-
jects, who devoured a great many more of us than are
now left? To tell you the truth, if we go to yonder
palace, there can be no question that we shall make
our appearance at the dinner-table ; but whether seated
as guests or served up as food, is a point to be seriously
considered."

"Either way," murmured some of the hungriest of
the crew, "it will be better than starvation; particu-
larly if one could be sure of being well fattened be-
forehand and daintily cooked afterwards."

"That is a matter of taste," said King Ulysses,
"and, for my own part, neither the most careful fat-
tening nor the daintiest of cookery would reconcile
me to being dished at last. My proposal is, therefore,
that we divide ourselves into two equal parties, and
ascertain, by drawing lots, which of the two shall go
to the palace, and beg for food and assistance. If
these can be obtained, all is well. If not, and if the
inhabitants prove as inhospitable as Polyphemus or
the Laestrygons, then there will but half of us perish,
and the remainder may set sail and escape."

As nobody objected to this scheme, Ulysses pro-
ceeded to count the whole band, and found that there

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were forty-six men, including himself. He then num-
bered off twenty-two of them, and put Eurylochus
(who was one of his chief officers, and second only to
himself in sagacity) at their head. Ulysses took com-
mand of the remaining twenty-two men, in person.
Then, taking off his helmet, he put two shells into it,
on one of which was written, " Go," and on the other,
" Stay." Another person now held the helmet, while
Ulysses and Eurylochus drew out each a shell; and
the word " Go " was found written on that which
Eurylochus had drawn. In this manner it wras de-
cided that Ulysses and his twenty-two men were to re-
main at the seaside until the other party should have
found out what sort of treatment they might expect at
the mysterious palace. As there was no help for it,
Eurylochus immediately set forth at the head of his
twenty-two followers, who went off in a very melan-
choly state of mind, leaving their friends in hardly
better spirits than themselves.

No sooner had they clambered up the cliff, than
they discerned the tall marble towers of the palace,
ascending, as white as snow, out of the lovely green
shadow of the trees which surrounded it. A gush of
smoke came from a chimney in the rear of the edifice.
This vapor rose high in the air, and meeting with a
breeze, was wafted seaward, and made to pass over the
heads of the hungry mariners. When people's appe-
tites are keen, they have a very quick scent for any-
thing savory in the wind.

" That smoke comes from the kitchen ! " cried one
of them, turning up his nose as high as he could, and

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THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

snuffing eagerly. "And, as sure as I'm a half-starved
vagabond, I smell roast meat in it."

"Pig, roast pig!" said another. "Ah, the dainty
little porker! My mouth waters for him."

"Let us make haste," cried the others, "or we shall
be too late for the good cheer!"

But scarcely had they made half a dozen steps from
the edge of the cliff, when a bird came fluttering to
meet them. It was the same pretty little bird, with
the purple wings and body, the yellow legs, the golden
collar round its neck, and the crown-like tuft upon its
head, whose behavior had so much surprised Ulysses.
It hovered about Eurylochus, and almost brushed his
face with its wings.

"Peep, peep, pe — weep!" chirped the bird.

So plaintively intelligent was the sound, that it
seemed as if the little creature were going to break its
heart with some mighty secret that it had to tell, and
only this one poor note to tell it .with.

" My pretty bird," said Eurylochus, - - for he was a
wary person, and let no token of harm escape his no-
tice, - - " my pretty bird, who sent you hither ? And
what is the message which you bring ? "

" Peep, peep, pe — weep ! " replied the bird, very sor-
rowfully.

Then it flew towards the edge of the cliff, and looked
round at them, as if exceedingly anxious that they
should return whence they came. Eurylochus and a
few of the others were inclined to turn back. They
could not help suspecting that the purple bird must
be aware of something mischievous that would befall

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them at the palace, and the knowledge of which af-
fected its airy spirit with a human sympathy and sor-
row. But the rest of the voyagers, snuffing up the
smoke from the palace kitchen, ridiculed the idea of
returning to the vessel. One of them (more brutal
than his fellows, and the most notorious gormandizer
in the wrhole crew) said such a cruel and wicked thing,
that I wonder the mere thought did not turn him into
a wild beast in shape, as he already was in his nature.

' This troublesome and impertinent little fowl," said
he, " would make a delicate titbit to begin dinner with.
Just one plump morsel, melting away between the teeth.
If he comes within my reach, I '11 catch him, and give
him to the palace cook to be roasted on a skewer."

The words were hardly out of his mouth, before the
purple bird flew away, crying, "Peep, peep, pe — weep,"
more dolorously than ever.

'That bird," remarked Eurylochus, :' knows more
than we do about what awaits us at the palace."

:' Come on, then," cried his comrades, " and we '11
soon know as much as he does."

The party, accordingly, went onward through the
green and pleasant wood. Every little while they
caught new glimpses of the marble palace, which looked
more and more beautiful the nearer they approached
it. They soon entered a broad pathway, which seemed
to be very neatly kept, and which went winding along
with streaks of sunshine falling across it, and specks
of light quivering among the deepest shadows that fell
from the lofty trees. It was bordered, too, with a great
many sweet-smelling flowers, such as the mariners had

297

THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

never seen before. So rich and beautiful they were that,
if the shrubs grew wild here and were native in the soil,
then this island was surely the flower-garden of the
whole earth ; or, if transplanted from some other clime,
it must have been from the Happy Islands that lay
towards the golden sunset.

'There has been a great deal of pains foolishly
wasted on these flowers," observed one of the com-
pany; and I tell you what he said, that you may keep
in mind what gormandizers they were. :' For my part,
if I were the owner of the palace, I would bid my gar-
dener cultivate nothing but savory potherbs to make
a stuffing for roast meat, or to flavor a stew with."

"Well said!" cried the others. "But I'll warrant
you there 's a kitchen garden in the rear of the palace."

At one place they came to a crystal spring, and
paused to drink at it for want of liquor which they
liked better. Looking into its bosom, they beheld
their own faces dimly reflected, but so extravagantly
distorted by the gush and motion of the water, that
each one of them appeared to be laughing at himself
and all his companions. So ridiculous were these im-
ages of themselves, indeed, that they did really laugh
aloud, and could hardly be grave again as soon as they
wished. And after they had drunk, they grew still
merrier than before.

'It has a twang of the wine-cask in it," said one,
smacking his lips.

"Make haste!" cried his fellows; "we'll find the
wine-cask itself at the palace; and that will be better
than a hundred crystal fountains."

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CIRCE'S PALACE

Then they quickened their pace, and capered for
joy at the thought of the savory banquet at which they
hoped to be guests. But Eurylochus told them that
he felt as if he were walking in a dream.

"If I am really awake," continued he, "then, in
my opinion, we are on the point of meeting with some
stranger adventure than any that befell us in the cave
of Polyphemus, or among the gigantic man-eating
Lsestrygons, or in the windy palace of King yEolus,
which stands on a brazen-walled island. This kind of
dreamy feeling always comes over me before any won-
derful occurrence. If you take my advice, you will
turn back."

"No, no," answered his comrades, snuffing the air,
in which the scent from the palace kitchen was now
very perceptible. 'We would not turn back, though
we were certain that the king of the Lsestrygons, as
big as a mountain, would sit at the head of the table,
and huge Polyphemus, the one-eyed Cyclops, at its
foot."

At length they came within full sight of the palace,
which proved to be very large and lofty, with a great
number of airy pinnacles upon its roof. Though it
was now midday, and the sun shone brightly over the
marble front, yet its snowy whiteness and its fantas-
tic style of architecture made it look unreal, like the
frostwork on a window-pane, or like the shapes of cas-
tles which one sees among the clouds by moonlight.
But just then a puff of wind brought down the smoke
of the kitchen chimney among them, and caused each
man to smell the odor of the dish that he liked best;

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THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

and, after scenting it, they thought everything else
moonshine, and nothing real save this palace, and
save the banquet that was evidently ready to be served
up in it.

So they hastened their steps towards the portal, but
had not got half-way across the wide lawn, when a
pack of lions, tigers, and wolves carne bounding to
meet them. The terrified mariners started back, ex-
pecting no better fate than to be torn to pieces and
devoured. To their surprise and joy, however, these
wild beasts merely capered around them, wagging their
tails, offering their heads to be stroked and patted, and
behaving just like so many well-bred house-dogs, when
they wish to express their delight at meeting their master
or their master's friends. The biggest lion licked the
feet of Eurylochus; and every other lion, and every wolf
and tiger, singled out one of his two and twenty fol-
lowers, whom the beast fondled as if he loved him better
than a beef-bone.

But, for all that, Eurylochus imagined that he saw
something fierce and savage in their eyes; nor would
he have been surprised, at any moment, to feel the big
lion's terrible claws, or to see each of the tigers make
a deadly spring, or each wolf leap at the throat of the
man whom he had fondled. Their mildness seemed
unreal, and a mere freak; but their savage nature
was as true as their teeth and claws.

Nevertheless, the men went safely across the lawn
with the wild beasts frisking about them, and doing
no manner of harm; although, as they mounted the
steps of the palace, you might possibly have heard

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CIRCE'S PALACE

a low growl, particularly from the wolves, as if they
thought it a pity, after all, to let the strangers pass
without so much as tasting what they were made of.

Eurylochus and his followers now passed under a
lofty portal, and looked through the open doorway
into the interior of the palace. The first thing that
they saw was a spacious hall, and a fountain in the
middle of it, gushing up towards the ceiling out of a
marble basin, and falling back into, it with a continual
plash. The water of this fountain, as it spouted up-
ward, was constantly taking new shapes, not very dis-
tinctly, but plainly enough for a nimble fancy to recog-
nize what they were. Now it was the shape of a man
in a long robe, the fleecy whiteness of which was made
out of the fountain's spray; now it was a lion, or a
tiger, or a wolf, or an ass, or, as often a^ anything
else, a hog, wallowing in the marble basin as if it were
his sty. It was either magic or some very curious ma-
chinery that caused the gushing waterspout to assume
all these forms. But, before the strangers had time
to look closely at this wonderful sight, their attention
was drawn off by a very sweet and agreeable sound.
A woman's voice was singing melodiously in another
room of the palace, and with her voice was mingled
the noise of a loom, at which she was probably seated,
weaving a rich texture of cloth, and intertwining the
high and low sweetness of her voice into a rich tissue
of harmony.

By and by the song came to an end; and then, all
at once, there were several feminine voices, talking
airily and cheerfully, with now and then a merry burst

301

THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

of laughter, such as you may always hear when three
or four young women sit at work together.

"What a sweet song that was!" exclaimed one of
the voyagers.

"Too sweet, indeed," answered Eurylochus, shak-
ing his head. "Yet it was not so sweet as the song
of the Sirens, those birdlike damsels who wanted to
tempt us on the rocks, so that our vessel might be
wrecked, and our bones left whitening along the shore."

" But just listen to the pleasant voices of those maid-
ens, and that buzz of the loom, as the shuttle passes
to and fro," said another comrade. 'WThat a domes-
tic, household, homelike sound it is! Ah, before that
weary siege of Troy, I used to hear the buzzing loom
and the women's voices under my own roof. Shall
I never hear them again ? nor taste those nice little
savory dishes which my dearest wife knew how to
serve up ? "

"Tush! we shall fare better here," said another.
"But how innocently those women are babbling to-
gether, without guessing that we overhear them! And
mark that richest voice of all, so pleasant and famil-
iar, but which yet seems to have the authority of a
mistress among them. Let us show ourselves at once.
What harm can the lady of the palace and her maid-
ens do to mariners and warriors like us ? "

"Remember," said Eurylochus, "that it was a young
maiden who beguiled three of our friends into the pal-
ace of the king of the Lsestrygons, who ate up one of
them in the twinkling of an eye."

No warning or persuasion, however, had any effect

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CIRCE'S PALACE

on his companions. They went up to a pair of folding-
doors at the farther end of the hall, and, throwing
them wide open, passed into the next room. Eury-
lochus, meanwhile, had stepped behind a pillar. In
the short moment while the folding-doors opened and
closed again, he caught a glimpse of a very beautiful
woman rising from the loom and coming to meet the
poor weather-beaten wanderers, with a hospitable
smile and her hand stretched out in welcome. There
were four other young women, who joined their hands
and danced merrily forward, making gestures of obei-
sance -to the strangers. They were only less beautiful
than the lady who seemed to be their mistress. Yet
Eurylochus fancied that one of them had sea-green
hair, and that the close-fitting bodice of a second
looked like the bark of a tree, and that both the others
had something odd in their aspect, although he could
not quite determine what it was, in the little while
that he had to examine them.

The folding-doors swung quickly back, and left him
standing behind the pillar, in the solitude of the outer
hall. There Eurylochus waited until he was quite
weary, and listened eagerly to every sound, but with-
out hearing anything that could help him to guess
what had become of his friends. Footsteps, it is true,
seemed to be passing and repassing in other parts of
the palace. Then there was a clatter of silver dishes,
or golden ones, which made him imagine a rich feast
in a splendid banqueting-hall. But by and by he heard
a tremendous grunting and squealing, and then a
sudden scampering, like that of small, hard hoofs over

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THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

a marble floor, while the voices of the mistress and
her four handmaidens were screaming all together, in
tones of anger and derision. Eurylochus could not con-
ceive what had happened, unless a drove of swine had
broken into the palace, attracted by the smell of the
feast. Chancing to cast his eyes at the fountain, he saw
that it did not shift its shape, as formerly, nor looked
either like a long-robed man, or a lion, a tiger, a wolf,
or an ass. It looked like nothing but a hog, which lay
wallowing in the marble basin, and filled it from brim
to brim.

But we must leave the prudent Eurylochus waiting
in the outer hall, and follow his friends into the inner
secrecy of the palace. As soon as the beautiful woman
saw them, she arose from the loom, as I have told you,
and came forward, smiling, and stretching out her
hand. She took the hand of the foremost among them,
and bade him and the whole party welcome.

'You have been long expected, my good friends,"
said she. "I and my maidens are well acquainted
with you, although you do not appear to recognize us.
Look at this piece of tapestry, and judge if your faces
must not have been familiar to us."

So the voyagers examined the web of cloth which
the beautiful woman had been weaving in her loom;
and to their vast astonishment they saw their own fig-
ures perfectly represented in different colored threads.
It was a lifelike picture of their recent adventures,
showing them in the cave of Polyphemus, and how
they had put out his one great moony eye; while in
another part of the tapestry they were untying the

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CIRCE'S PALACE

leathern bags, puffed out with contrary winds; and
farther on, they beheld themselves scampering away
from the gigantic king of the Lsestrygons, who had
caught one of them by the leg. Lastly, there they
were, sitting on the desolate shore of this very island,
hungry and downcast, and looking ruefully at the
bare bones of the stag which they devoured yesterday.
This was as far as the work had yet proceeded; but
when the beautiful woman should again sit down at
her loom, she would probably make a picture of what
had since happened to the strangers, and of what was
now going to happen.

"You see," she said, "that I know all about your
troubles; and you cannot doubt that I desire to make
you happy for as long a time as you may remain with
me. For this purpose, my honored guests, I have or-
dered a banquet to be prepared. Fish, fowl, and flesh,
roasted, and in luscious stews, and seasoned, I trust,
to all your tastes, are ready to be served up. If your
appetites tell you it is dinner-time, then come with me
to the festal saloon."

At this kind invitation, the hungry mariners were
quite overjoyed; and one of them, taking upon him-
self to be spokesman, assured their hospitable hostess
that any hour of the day was dinner-time with them,
whenever they could get fiesh to put in the pot, and
fire to boil it with. So the beautiful woman led the
way; and the four maidens (one of them had sea-
green hair, another a bodice of oak-bark, a third
sprinkled a shower of water-drops from her fingers'
ends, and the fourth had some other oddity, which I

305

THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

have forgotten), all these followed behind, and hur-
ried the guests along, until they entered a magnificent
saloon. It was built in a perfect oval, and lighted
from a crystal dome above. Around the walls were
ranged two and twenty thrones, overhung by cano-
pies of crimson and gold, and provided with the soft-
est of cushions, which were tasseled and fringed with
gold cord. Each of the strangers was invited to sit
down; and there they were, two and twenty storm-
beaten mariners, in worn and tattered garb, sitting on
two and twenty cushioned and canopied thrones, so rich
and gorgeous that the proudest monarch had nothing
more splendid in his stateliest hall.

Then you might have seen the guests nodding,
winking with one eye, and leaning from one throne to
another, to communicate their satisfaction in hoarse
whispers.

"Our good hostess has made kings of us all," said
one. " Ha ! do you smell the feast ? I '11 engage it will
be fit to set before two-and-twenty kings."

" I hope," said another, ' it will be, mainly, good
substantial joints, sirloins, spareribs, and hinder quar-
ters, without too many kickshaws. If I thought the
good lady would not take it amiss, I should call for a
fat slice of fried bacon to begin with."

Ah, the gluttons and gormandizers! You see how
it was with them. In the loftiest seats of dignity, on
royal thrones, they could think of nothing but their
greedy appetite, which was the portion of their nature
that they shared with wolves and swine; so that they
resembled those vilest of animals far more than they

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CIRCE'S PALACE

did kings, - - if, indeed, kings were what they ought
to be.

But the beautiful woman now clapped her hands;
and immediately there entered a train of two and

V

twenty serving-men, bringing dishes of the richest
food, all hot from the kitchen fire, and sending up
such a steam that it hung like a cloud below the crvs-

ti

tal dome of the saloon. An equal number of attend-
ants brought great flagons of wine, of various kinds,
some of which sparkled as it was poured out, and
went bubbling down the throat; while, of other sorts,
the purple liquor was so clear that you could see the
wrought figures at the bottom of the goblet. While
the servants supplied the two and twenty guests with
food and drink, the hostess and her four maidens wrent
from one throne to another, exhorting them to eat
their fill, and to quaff wine abundantly, and thus to
recompense themselves, at this one banquet, for the
many days when they had gone without a dinner. But,
whenever the mariners were not looking at them
(which was pretty often, as they looked chiefly into
the basins and platters), the beautiful woman and her
damsels turned aside and laughed. Even the servants,
as they knelt down to present the dishes, might be
seen to grin and sneer, while the guests were helping
themselves to the offered dainties.

And once in a while the strangers seemed to taste
something that they did not like.

"Here is an odd kind of a spice in this dish," said
one. "I can't say it quite suits my palate. Down it
goes, however."

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THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

" Send a good draught of wine down your throat,"
said his comrade on the next throne. 'That is the
stuff to make this sort of cookery relish well. Though
I must needs say, the wine has a queer taste too. But
the more I drink of it the better I like the flavor."

Whatever little fault they might find with the dishes,
they sat at dinner a prodigiously long while; and it
would really have made you ashamed to see how they
swilled down the liquor and gobbled up the food. They
sat on golden thrones, to be sure; but they behaved
like pigs in a sty, and, if they had had their wits about
them, they might have guessed that this was the opinion
of their beautiful hostess and her maidens. It brings
a blush into my face to reckon up, in my own mind,
what mountains of meat and pudding, and what gal-
lons of wine, these two and twenty guzzlers and gor-
mandizers ate and drank. They forgot all about their
homes, and their wives, and children, and all about
Ulysses, and everything else, except this banquet, at
which they wanted to keep feasting forever But at
length they began to give over, from mere incapacity
to hold any more.

'That last bit of fat is too much for me," said one.

"And I have, not room for another morsel," said his
next neighbor, heaving a sigh. 'What a pity! My
appetite is as sharp as ever."

In short, they all left off eating, and leaned back on
their thrones, with such a stupid and helpless aspect
as made them ridiculous to behold. When their hostess
saw this, she laughed aloud; so did her four damsels;
so did the two-and-twenty serving men that bore the

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CIRCE'S PALACE

dishes, and their two-and-twenty fellows that poured
out the wine. And the louder they all laughed, the
more stupid and helpless did the two-and-twenty gor-
mandizers look. Then the beautiful woman took her
stand in the middle of the saloon, and stretching out
a slender rod (it had been all the while in her hand,
although they never noticed it till this moment), she
turned it from one guest to another, until each had felt
it pointed at himself. Beautiful as her face was, and
though there was a smile on it, it looked just as wicked
and mischievous as the ugliest serpent that ever was
seen; and fat-witted as the voyagers had made them-
selves, they began to suspect that they had fallen into
the power of an evil-minded enchantress.

"Wretches," cried she, "you have abused a lady's
hospitality; and in this princely saloon your behavior
has been suited to a hogpen. You are already swine
in everything but the human form, which you dis-
grace, and which I myself should be ashamed to keep
a moment longer, were you to share it with me. But
it will require only the slightest exercise of magic to
make the exterior conform to the hoggish disposition.
Assume your proper shapes, gormandizers, and begone
to the sty!"

Uttering these last words, she waved her wand ; and
stamping her foot imperiously, each of the guests was
struck aghast at beholding, instead of his comrades in
human shape, one and twenty hogs sitting on the same
number of golden thrones. Each man (as he still sup-
posed himself to be) essayed to give a cry of surprise,
but found that he could merely grunt, and that, in a

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THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

word, he was just such another beast as his compan-
ions. It looked so intolerably absurd to see hogs on
cushioned thrones, that they made haste to wallow
down upon all fours, like other swine. They tried to
groan and beg for mercy, but forthwith emitted the
most awful grunting and squealing that ever came
out of swinish throats. They would have wrung their
hands in despair, but, attemping to do so, grew all
the more desperate for seeing themselves squatted on
their hams, and pawing the air with their fore trotters.
Dear me! what pendulous ears they had! what little
red eyes, half buried in fat! and what long snouts,
instead of Grecian noses!

But brutes as they certainly were, they yet had
enough of human nature in them to be shocked at their
own hideousness; and still intending to groan, they
uttered a viler grunt and squeal than before. So harsh
and ear-piercing it was, that you would have fancied
a butcher was sticking his knife into each of their
throats, or, at the very least, that somebody was pull-
ing every hog by his funny little twist of a tail.

"Begone to your sty!" cried the enchantress, giv-
ing them some smart strokes with her wand ; and then
she turned to the serving-men. ' Drive out these swine,
and throw down some acorns for them to eat."

The door of the saloon being flung open, the drove
of hogs ran in all directions save the right one, in ac-
cordance with their hoggish perversity, but were finally
driven into the back yard of the palace. It was a sight
to bring tears into one's eyes (and I hope none of you
will be cruel enough to laugh at it) to see the poor

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CIRCE'S PALACE

creatures go snuffing along, picking up here a cab-
bage leaf and there a turnip-top, and rooting their
noses in the earth for whatever they could find. In
their sty, moreover, they behaved more piggishly than
the pigs that had been born so ; for they bit and snorted
at one another, put their feet in the trough, and
gobbled up their victuals in a ridiculous hurry; and,
when there was nothing more to be had, they made
a great pile of themselves among some unclean straw
and fell fast asleep. If they had any human reason
left, it was just enough to keep them wondering when
they should be slaughtered, and what quality of bacon
they should make.

Meantime, as I told you before, Eurylochus had
waited, and waited, and waited, in the entrance-hall
of the palace, without being able to comprehend what
had befallen his friends. At last, when the swinish
uproar resounded through the palace, and when he
saw the image of a hog in the marble basin, he thought
it best to hasten back to the vessel, and inform the
wise Ulysses of these marvelous occurrences. So he
ran as fast as he could down the steps, and never
stopped to draw breath till he reached the shore.

"Why do you come alone?" asked King Ulysses,
as soon as he saw him. "Where are your two and
twenty comrades ? "

At these questions Eurylochus burst into tears.

"Alas!" cried he, "I greatly fear that we shall
never see one of their faces again."

Then he told Ulysses all that had happened, as far
as he knew it, and added that he suspected the beau-

311

THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

tiful woman to be a vile enchantress, and the marble
palace, magnificent as it looked, to be only a dismal
cavern in reality. As for his companions, he could not
imagine what had become of them, unless they had
been given to the swine to be devoured alive. At this
intelligence all the voyagers were greatly affrighted.
But Ulysses lost no time in girding on his sword, and
hanging his bow and quiver over his shoulders, and
taking a spear in his right hand. When his followers
saw their wise leader making these preparations, they
inquired whither he was going, and earnestly besought
him not to leave them.

"You are our king," cried they; "and what is
more, you are the wisest man in the whole world, and
nothing but your wisdom and courage can get us out
of this danger. If you desert us, and go to the en-
chanted palace, you will suffer the same fate as our
poor companions, and not a soul of us will ever see
our dear Ithaca again."

"As I am your king," answered Ulysses, "and
wiser than any of you, it is therefore the more my duty
to see what has befallen our comrades, and whether
anything can yet be done to rescue them. Wait for
me here until to-morrow. If I do not then return,
you must hoist sail, and endeavor to find your way to
our native land. For my part, I am answerable for
the fate of these poor mariners, who have stood by
my side in battle, and been so often drenched to the
skin, along with me, by the same tempestuous surges.
I will either bring them back with me or perish."

Had his followers dared, they would have detained

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CIRCE'S PALACE

him by force. But King Ulysses frowned sternly on
them, and shook his spear, and bade them stop him
at their peril. Seeing him so determined, they let him
go, and sat down on the sand, as disconsolate a set of
people as could be, waiting and praying for his return.

It happened to Ulysses, just as before, that, when
he had gone a few steps from the edge of the cliff,
the purple bird came fluttering towards him, crying,
""Peep, peep, pe — weep!" and using all the art it could
to persuade him to go no farther.

"What mean you, little bird ?" cried Ulysses. "You
are arrayed like a king in purple and gold, and wear
a golden crown upon your head. Is it because I too
am a king that you desire so earnestly to speak with
me? If you can talk in human language, say what
you would have me do."

"Peep!" answered the purple bird, very dolorously.
"Peep, peep, pe — we — ep!"

Certainly there lay some heavy anguish at the little
bird's heart; and it was a sorrowful predicament that
he could not, at least, have the consolation of telling
what it was. But Ulysses had no time to waste in

*/

trying to get at the mystery. He therefore quickened
his pace, and had gone a good way along the pleasant
wood-path, when there met him a young man of very
brisk and intelligent aspect, and clad in a rather sin-
gular garb. He wore a short cloak, and a sort of cap
that seemed to be furnished with a pair of wings ; and
from the lightness of his step, you would have sup-
posed that there might likewise be wings on his feet.
To enable him to walk still better (for he was always

313

THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

on one journey or another), he carried a winged staff,
around which two serpents were wriggling and twist-
ing. In short, I have said enough to make you guess
that it was Quicksilver; and Ulysses (who knew him
of old, and had learned a great deal of his wisdom from
him) recognized him in a moment.

"Whither are you going in such a hurry, wise Ulys-
ses?" asked Quicksilver. "Do you not know that
this island is enchanted ? The wicked enchantress
(whose name is Circe, the sister of King ^Eetes) dwells
in the marble palace which you see yonder among
the trees. By her magic arts, she changes every human
being into the brute, beast, or fowl whom he happens
most to resemble."

"That little bird which met me at the edge of the
cliff," exclaimed Ulysses; "was he a human being
once ? "

"Yes," answered Quicksilver. "He was once a
king, named Picus, and a pretty good sort of a king
too, only rather too proud of his purple robe, and his
crown, and the golden chain about his neck; so he
was forced to take the shape of a gaudy-feathered
bird. The lions, and wolves, and tigers who will
come running to meet you, in front of the palace, were
formerly fierce and cruel men, resembling in their dis-
positions the wild beasts whose forms they now right-
fully wear."

"And my poor companions," said Ulysses. ''Have
they undergone a similar change, through the arts of
this wicked Circe?"

"You well know what gormandizers they were,"

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CIRCE'S PALACE

replied Quicksilver; and, rogue that he was, he could
not help laughing at the joke. "So you will not be
surprised to hear that they have all taken the shapes
of swine! If Circe had never done anything worse,
I really should not think her so very much to blame."

" But can I do nothing to help them ? " inquired
Ulysses.

"It will require all your wisdom," said Quicksilver,
" and a little of my own into the bargain, to keep your
royal and sagacious self from being transformed into
a fox. But do as I bid you, and the matter may end
better than it has begun."

While he was speaking, Quicksilver seemed to be
in search of something; he went stooping along the
ground, and soon laid his hand on a little plant with
a snow-white flower, which he plucked and smelt of.
Ulysses had been looking at that very spot only just
before; and it appeared to him that the plant had
burst into full flower the instant when Quicksilver
touched it with his fingers.

' Take this flower. King Ulysses," said he. " Guard
it as you do your eyesight; for I can assure you it is
exceedingly rare and precious, and you might seek the
whole earth over without ever finding another like it.
Keep it in your hand, and smell of it frequently after
you enter the palace, and while you are talking with
the enchantress. Especially when she offers you food,
or a draught of wine out of her goblet, be careful to
fill your nostrils with the flower's fragrance. Follow
these directions, and you may defy her magic arts to
change you into a fox."

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THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

Quicksilver then gave him some further advice how
to behave, and, bidding him be bold and prudent,
again assured him that, powerful as Circe was, he
would have a fair prospect of coming safely out of her
enchanted palace. After listening attentively, Ulysses
thanked his good friend, and resumed his way. But
he had taken only a few steps, when, recollecting some
other questions which he wished to ask, he turned
round again, and beheld nobody on the spot where
Quicksilver had stood; for that winged cap of his,
and those winged shoes with the help of the winged
staff, had carried him quickly out of sight.

When Ulysses reached the lawn in front of the pal-
ace, the lions and other savage animals came bound-
ing to meet him, and would have fawned upon him
and licked his feet. But the wise king struck at them
with his long spear, and sternly bade them begone out
of his path; for he knew that they had once been
bloodthirsty men, and would now tear him limb from
limb, instead of fawning upon him, could they do the
mischief that was in their hearts. The wild beasts
yelped and glared at him, and stood at, a distance
while he ascended the palace steps.

On entering the hall, Ulysses saw the magic foun-
tain in the centre of it. The up-gushing water had
now again taken the shape of a man in a long, white,
fleecy robe, who appeared to be making gestures of
welcome. The king likewise heard the noise of the
shuttle in the loom, and the sweet melody of the beau-
tiful woman's song, and then the pleasant voices of
herself and the four maidens talking together, with

316

CIRCE'S PALACE

peals of merry laughter intermixed. But Ulysses did
not waste much time in listening to the laughter or
the song. He leaned his spear against one of the pil-
lars of the hall, and then, after loosening his sword in
the scabbard, stepped boldly forward, and threw the
folding-doors wide open. The moment she beheld his
stately figure standing in the doorway, the beautiful
woman rose from the loom, and ran to meet him with
a glad smile throwing its sunshine over her face, and
both her hands extended.

"Welcome, brave stranger!" cried she. 'We were
expecting you."

And the nymph with the sea-green hair made a
courtesy down to the ground, and likewise bade him
welcome; so did her sister with the bodice of oaken
bark, and she that sprinkled dew-drops from her fin-
gers' ends, and the fourth one with some oddity which
I cannot remember. And Circe, as the beautiful en-
chantress was called (wTho had deluded so many per^
sons that she did not doubt of being able to delude
Ulysses, not imagining how wise he was), again ad-
dressed him.

'Your companions," said she, 'have already been
received into my palace, and have enjoyed the hospi-
table treatment to which the propriety of their beha-
vior so well entitles them. If such be your pleasure,
you shall first take some refreshment, and then join
them in the elegant apartments which they now oc-
cupy. See, I and my maidens have been weaving
their figures into this piece of tapestry."

She pointed to the web of beautifully woven cloth

317

THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

in the loom. Circe and the four nymphs must have
been very diligently at work since the arrival of the
mariners; for a great many yards of tapestry had now
been wrought, in addition to what I before described.
In this new part, Ulysses saw his two and twenty
friends represented as sitting on cushioned and cano-
pied thrones, greedily devouring dainties and quaffing
deep draughts of wine. The work had not yet gone
any further. Oh, no, indeed ! The enchantress was far
too cunning to let Ulysses see the mischief which her
magic arts had since brought upon the gormandizers.

"As for yourself, valiant sir," said Circe, "judging
by the dignity of your aspect, I take you to be nothing
less than a king. Deign to follow me, and you shall
be treated as befits your rank."

So Ulysses followed her into the oval saloon, where
his two and twenty comrades had devoured the ban-
quet which ended so disastrously for themselves. But
all this while he had held the snow-white flower in
his hand, and had constantly smelt of it while Circe
was speaking; and as he crossed the threshold of the
saloon, he took good care to inhale several long and
deep snuffs of its fragrance. Instead of two and
twenty thrones, which had before been ranged around
the wall, there was now only a single throne, in the
centre of the apartment. But this was surely the most
magnificent seat that ever a king or an emperor re-
posed himself upon, all made of chased gold, studded
with precious stones, with a cushion that looked like
a soft heap of living roses, and overhung by a can-
opy of sunlight which Circe knew how to weave into

318

CIRCE'S PALACE'

drapery. The enchantress took Ulysses by the hand,
and made him sit down upon this dazzling throne.
Then, clapping her hands, she summoned the chief
butler.

"Bring hither," said she, "the goblet that is set apart
for kings to drink out of. And fill it with the same
delicious wine which my royal brother, King ^Eetes,
praised so highly, when he visited me with my fair
daughter Medea. That good and amiable child ! Were
she now here, it would delight her to see me offering
this wine to my honored guest."

But Ulysses, while the butler was gone for the wine,
held the snow-white flower to his nose.

"Is it a wholesome wine?" he asked.

At this the four maidens tittered; whereupon the
enchantress looked round at them, with an aspect of
severity.

:' It is the wholesomest juice that ever was squeezed
out of the grape," said she; "for, instead of disguis-
ing a man, as other liquor is apt to do, it brings him
to his true self, and shows him as he ought to be."

The chief butler liked nothing better than to see
people turned into swine, or making any kind of a
beast of themselves; so he made haste to bring the
royal goblet, filled with a liquid as bright as gold, and
which kept sparkling upward, and throwing a sunny
spray over the brim. But, delightfully as the wine
looked, it was mingled with the most potent enchant-
ments that Circe knew how to concoct. For every
drop of the pure grape-juice there were two drops of
the pure mischief ; and the danger of the thing was,

319

THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

that the mischief made it taste all the better. The
mere smell of the bubbles, which effervesced at the
brim, was enough to turn a man's beard into pig's
bristles, or make a lion's claws grow out of his fingers,
or a fox's brush behind him.

"Drink, my noble guest," said Circe, smiling as
she presented him with the goblet. "You will find
in this draught a solace for all your troubles."

King Ulysses took the goblet with his right hand,
while with his left he held the snow-white flower to his
nostrils, and drew in so long a breath that his lungs
were quite filled with its pure and simple fragrance.
Then, drinking off all the wine, he looked the enchan-
tress calmly in the face.

"Wretch," cried Circe, giving him a smart stroke
with her wand, " how dare you keep your human shape
a moment longer ? Take the form of the brute whom
you most resemble. If a hog, go join your fellow
swine in the sty; if a lion, a wolf, a tiger, go howl
with the wild beasts on the lawn; if a fox, go exercise
your craft in stealing poultry. Thou hast quaffed off
my wine, and canst be man no longer."

But, such was the virtue of the snow-white flower,
instead of wallowing down from his throne in swinish
shape or taking any other brutal form, Ulysses looked
even more manly and kinglike than before. He gave
the magic goblet a toss, and sent it clashing over the
marble floor, to the farthest end of the saloon. Then,
drawing his sword, he seized the enchantress by her
beautiful ringlets, and made a gesture as if he meant
to strike off her head at one blow.

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CIRCE'S PALACE

"Wicked Circe," cried he, in a terrible voice, "this
sword shall put an end to thy enchantments. Thou
shalt die, vile wretch, and do no more mischief in the
world, by tempting human beings into the vices which
make beasts of them."

The tone and countenance of Ulysses were so awful,
and his sword gleamed so brightly and seemed to have
so intolerably keen an edge, that Circe was almost
killed by the mere fright, without waiting for a blow.
The chief butler scrambled out of the saloon, picking
up the golden goblet as he went; and the enchantress
and the four maidens fell on their knees, wringing
their hands and screaming for mercy.

" Spare me ! " cried Circe, - " spare me, royal and
wise Ulysses. For now I know that thou art he of
whom Quicksilver forewarned me, the most prudent of
mortals, against whom no enchantments can prevail.
Thou only couldst have conquered Circe. Spare me,
wisest of men. I will show thee true hospitality, and
even give myself to be thy slave, and this magnificent
palace to be henceforth thy home."

The four nymphs, meanwhile, were making a most
piteous ado; and especially the ocean nymph, with
the sea-green hair, wept a great deal of salt water,
and the fountain nymph, besides scattering dewdrops
from her fingers' ends, nearly melted away into tears.
But Ulysses would not be pacified until Circe had
taken a solemn oath to change back his companions,
and as many others as he should direct, from their
present forms of beast or bird into their former shapes
of men.

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THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

" On these conditions," said he, " I consent to spare
your life. Otherwise you must die upon the spot."

With a drawn sword hanging over her, the enchan-
tress would readily have consented to do as much good
as she had hitherto done mischief, however little she
might like such employment. She therefore led Ulys-
ses out of the back entrance of the palace, and showed
him the swine in their sty. There were about fifty of
these unclean beasts in the whole herd; and though
the greater part were hogs by birth and education,
there was wonderfully little difference to be seen be-
twixt them and their new brethren who had so recently
worn the human shape. To speak critically, indeed, the
latter rather carried the thing to excess, and seemed to
make it a point to wallow in the miriest part of the
sty, and otherwise to outdo the original swine in their
own natural vocation. When men once turn to brutes,
the trifle of man's wit that remains in them adds ten-
fold to their brutality.

The comrades of Ulysses, however, had not quite
lost the remembrance of having formerly stood erect.
When he approached the sty, two and twenty enormous
swine separated themselves from the herd, and scam-
pered towards him, with such a chorus of horrible
squealing as made him clap both hands to his ears.
And yet they did not seem to know what they wanted,
nor whether thev were merely hungry or miserable

\f «/ O «/

from some other cause. It was curious, in the midst
of their distress, to observe them thrusting their noses
into the mire, in quest of something to eat. The nymph
with the bodice of oaken bark (she was the hama-

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CIRCE'S PALACE

dryad of an oak) threw a handful of acorns among
them; and the two and twenty hogs scrambled and
fought for the prize, as if they had tasted not so much
as a noggin of sour milk for a twelvemonth.

"These must certainly be my comrades," said Ulys-
ses. "I recognize their dispositions. They are hardly
worth the trouble of changing them into the human
form again. Nevertheless, we will have it done, lest
their bad example should corrupt the other hogs. Let
them take their original shapes, therefore, Dame
Circe, if your skill is equal to the task. It will require
greater magic, I trow, than it did to make swine of
them."

So Circe waved her wand again, and repeated a
few magic words, at the sound of which the two and
twenty hogs pricked up their pendulous ears. It was
a wonder to behold how their snouts grew shorter
and shorter, and their mouths (which they seemed to
be sorry for, because they could not gobble so expedi-
tiously) smaller and smaller, and how one and another
began to stand upon his hind legs, and scratch his nose
with his fore trotters. At first the spectators hardly
knew whether to call them hogs or men, but by and
by came to the conclusion that they rather resem-
bled the latter. Finally, there stood the twenty-two
comrades of Ulysses, looking pretty much the same as
when they left the vessel.

You must not imagine, however, that the swinish
quality had entirely gone out of them. When once it
fastens itself into a person's character, it is very diffi-
cult getting rid of it. This was proved by the hama-

323

THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

dryad, who, being exceedingly fond of mischief, threw
another handful of acorns before the twenty-two newly
restored people; whereupon down they wallowed, in a
moment, and gobbled them up in a very shameful way.
Then, recollecting themselves, they scrambled to their
feet, and looked more than commonly foolish.

'Thanks, noble Ulysses!" they cried. "From brute
beasts you have restored us to the condition of men
again."

'Do not put yourselves to the trouble of thanking
me," said the wise king. "I fear I have done but little
for you."

To say the truth, there was a suspicious kind of a
grunt in their voices, and for a long time afterwards
they spoke gruffly, and were apt to set up a squeal.

;'It must depend on your own future behavior,"
added Ulysses, :< whether you do not find your way
back to the sty."

At this moment, the note of a bird sounded from
the branch of a neighboring tree.

"Peep, peep, pe — wee — ep!"

It was the purple bird, who, all this while, had been
sitting over their heads, watching what was going for-
ward, and hoping that Ulysses would remember how
he had done his utmost to keep him and his followers
out of harm's way. Ulysses ordered Circe instantly
to make a king of this good little fowl, and leave him
exactly as she found him. Hardly were the words
spoken, and before the bird had time to utter an-
other "Pe — weep," King Picus leaped down from the
bough of the tree, as majestic a sovereign as any in

324

CIRCE'S PALACE

the world, dressed in a long purple robe and gorgeous
yellow stockings, with a splendidly wrought collar
about his neck, and a golden crown upon his head.
He and King Ulysses exchanged with one another the
courtesies which belonged to their elevated rank. But
from that time forth, King Picus was no longer proud
of his crown and his trappings of royalty, nor of the
fact of his being a king; he felt himself merely the
upper servant of his people, and that it must be his
lifelong labor to make them better and happier.

As for the lions, tigers, and wolves (though Circe
would have restored them to their former shapes at
his slightest wrord), Ulysses thought it advisable that
they should remain as they now were, and thus give
warning of their cruel dispositions, instead of going
about under the guise of men, and pretending to hu-
man sympathies, while their hearts had the blood-
thirstiness of wild beasts. So he let them howl as much
as they liked, but never troubled his head about them.
And, when everything was settled according to his
pleasure, he sent to summon the remainder of his
comrades, whom he had left at the seashore. These
being arrived, with the prudent Eurylochus at their
head, they all made themselves comfortable in Circe's
enchanted palace until quite rested and refreshed from
the toils and hardships of their voyage.

THE SIRENS — SCYLLA AND
CHARYBDIS

Translated by George Herbert Palmer

I TURNED me toward my ship, and called my crew
to come on board and loose the cables. Quickly
they came, took places at the pins, and sitting in order
smote the foaming water with their oars. And for our
aid behind our dark-bowed ship came a fair wind to
fill our sail, a welcome comrade, sent us by fair-haired
Circe, the mighty goddess, human of speech. When
we had done our work at the several ropes about the
ship, we sat us down, while wind and helmsman kept
her steady.

Now to my men, with aching heart, I said, "My
friends, it is not right for only one or two to know
the oracles which Circe told, that heavenly goddess.
Therefore I speak, that, knowing all, we so may die,
or fleeing death and doom, we may escape. She warns
us first against the marvelous Sirens, and bids us flee
their voice and flowery meadow. Only myself she bade
to hear their song; but bind me with galling cords,
to hold me firm, upright upon the mast-block, —
round it let the rope be wound. And if I should en-
treat you, and bid you set me free, thereat with still
more fetters bind me fast."

Thus I, relating all my tale, talked with my com-

326

SIRENS -- SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS

rades. Meanwhile our stanch ship swiftly neared the
Sirens' island; a fair wind swept her on. On a sudden
the wind ceased; there came a breathless calm; Hea-
ven hushed the waves. My comrades, rising, furled
the sail, stowed it on board the hollow ship, then sit-
ting at their oars whitened the water with the pol-
ished blades. But I with my sharp sword cut a great
cake of wax into small bits, which I then kneaded
in my sturdy hands. Soon the wax warmed, forced
by the powerful pressure and by the rays of the ex-
alted sun, the lord of all. Then one by one I stopped
the ears of all my crew; and on the deck they bound
me hand and foot, upright upon the mast-block, round
which they wound the rope; and sitting down they
smote the foaming water with their oars. But when
we were as far away as one can call, and driving swiftly
onward, our speeding ship, as it drew near, did not
escape the Sirens, and thus they lifted up their pene-
trating voice: —

" Come hither, come, Ulysses, whom all praise !
great glory to the Achaians ! Bring on your ship, and
listen to our song. For none has ever passed us in a
black-hulled ship till from our lips he heard ecstatic
song, then went his way rejoicing and with larger
knowledge. For we know all that on the plain of Troy
Argives and Trojans suffered at the Gods' behest;
we know whatever happens on the bounteous earth."

So spoke they, sending forth their glorious song,
and my heart longed to listen. Knitting my brows,
I signed my men to set me free; but bending forward,
on they rowed. And straightway Perimedes and Eury-

327

THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES

lochus arose and laid upon me still more cords, and
drew them tighter. Then, after passing by, when we
could hear no more the Sirens' voice nor any singing,
quickly my trusty crew removed the wax with which
I stopped their ears, and set me free from bondage.

Soon after we left the island, I observed a smoke,
I saw high waves and heard a plunging sound. From
the hands of my frightened men down fell the oars,
and splashed against the current. There the ship
stayed, for they worked the tapering oars no more.
Along the ship I passed, inspiriting my men with cheer-
ing words, standing by each in turn : —

' Friends, hitherto we have not been untried in dan-
ger. Here is no greater danger than when the Cyclops
penned us with brutal might in the deep cave. Yet out
of that, through energy of mine, through will and wis-
dom, we escaped. These dangers, too, I think some day
we shall remember. Come then, and what I say let us
all follow. You with your oars strike the deep breakers
of the sea, while sitting at the pins, and see if Zeus will
set us free from present death and let us go in safety.
And, helmsman, these are my commands for you; lay
them to heart, for you control the rudders of our hollow
ship: keep the ship off that smoke and surf and hug
the crags, or else, before you know it, she may veer off
that way, and you will bring us into danger."

So I spoke, and my words they quickly heeded. But
Scylla I did not name, - - that hopeless horror, - - for
fear through fright my men might cease to row, and
huddle all together in the hold. I disregarded too the
hard behest of Circe, when she had said I must by

328

SIRENS — SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS

no means arm. Putting on my glittering armor and
taking in my hands my two long spears, I went upon
the ship's fore-deck, for thence I looked for the first
sight of Scylla of the rocks, who brought my men dis-
aster. Nowhere could I descry her; I tried my eyes
with searching up and down the dusky cliff.

So up the strait we sailed in sadness; for here lay
Scylla, and there divine Charybdis fearfully sucked
the salt sea-water down. Whenever she belched it
forth, like a kettle in fierce flame all would foam swirl-
ing up, and overhead spray fell upon the tops of both
the crags. But when she gulped the salt sea-water
down, then all within seemed in a whirl; the rock
around roared fearfully, and down below the bottom
showed, dark with the sand. Pale terror seized my
men; on her we looked and feared to die.

And now it was that Scylla snatched from the hol-
low ship six of my comrades who were best in skill
and strength. Turning my eyes toward my swift ship
to seek my men, I saw their feet and hands already
in the air as they were carried up. They screamed
aloud and called my name for the last time, in agony
of heart. As when a lisher, on a jutting rock, with
long rod throws a bait to lure the little fishes, casting
into the deep the horn of stall-fed ox; then, catching
a fish, flings it ashore writhing, — even so were these
drawn writhing up the rocks. There at her door she
ate them, loudly shrieking and stretching forth their
hands in mortal pangs toward me. That was the sad-
dest sight my eyes have ever seen, in all my toils, search-
ing the ocean pathways.

ULYSSES IN ITHACA

ULYSSES LANDS ON THE SHORE

OF ITHACA

By F. S. Marvin, R. J. C. Mayor, and F. M.

Stowell

[For ten years Ulysses was driven hither and thither
over the water, seeking for his homeland, Ithaca. At
length he was shipwrecked on the shores of Phceacia.
The king, Alcinous, entertained him most hospitably,
and Ulysses related to him the story of his wanderings.]

WHEN Ulysses had finished his story, there
was silence in the hall till Alcinous said, "Ulys-
ses, now that you have come to my house after all
these troubles, you shall return without more wander-
ing to your home." And then he bade the princes
go home for the night and meet again in the morning
to bring their gifts.

So next day the Sea-kings went down to the ship
and put their gifts on board and then returned to the
palace and sacrificed an ox to Zeus. And then they
feasted and drank their good wine and waited till the
sun went down. And the minstrel sang to them, but
Ulysses kept looking at the sun impatiently, like a
hungry ploughman tired out at the close of day. At
last the time arrived, and then Ulysses said, "Alcinous,
let me go now, and fare you well. My escort and my

333

ULYSSES IN ITHACA

gifts are all prepared, and I could wish no more. May
I but find my wife and my dear ones all safe and sound
at home ! And may Heaven grant you, too, happy homes
and every blessing and no distress among your people ! "
And to Queen Arete he said, 'Lady, may you live
happily with your husband and children, and all this
people, till old age comes to you and death, which must
come to all!"

Then the herald led the way and Ulysses followed
to the ship, and the queen sent her servants with
him to carry warm clothing for the voyage and food
and drink. And when they had stored the ship he lay
down silently in the stern, and the rowers took their
places in the benches and plied their oars, while a
deep, sweet sleep fell upon him, like the sleep of death.
Then the wonderful ship leapt forward on her way,
like a team of chariot horses plunging beneath the
whip, and the great dark wave roared round the stern.
No hawk could fly so quickly as that ship flew through
the waves, and the hawk is the swiftest of all birds.
And as she sped, the man who had suffered so much
and was as wise as the Gods lay peacefully asleep, and
forgot his sufferings.

But when the bright star rose that tells of the approach
of day, the ship drew near the island of Ithaca. There
is a haven there between two steep headlands which
break the waves, so that ships can ride in safety with-
out a mooring rope, and at the head of it an olive-
tree, and a shadowy cave where the water fairies come
and tend their bees and weave their sea-blue' garments
on the hanging looms and mix their wine in bowls and

334

ULYSSES LANDS IN ITHACA

jars of stone. There are springs of water in the cave,
and two ways into it, one to the north for men to enter,
and one to the south where none but the Gods may
pass.

The Sea-kings knew this harbor and rowed straight
into it and ran their ship half a keel's length ashore.
Then they lifted Ulysses out of the stern, wrapt in
the rugs and coverlet, and laid him still asleep upon the
sand. And the gifts they placed in a heap by the trunk
of the olive-tree, a little out of the road, so that no
passer-by might rob him as he slept.

Then they sailed away; and after they were gone
Ulysses awoke, but he could not recognize the land
where he lay, for Athene had cast a mist about him so
that everything 'looked strange, though he was the
lord of it all. There were the mountain paths and the
sheltering creeks, the high, steep rocks and the trees in
bloom; but he could not see it aright, and started up
and smote his hands upon his thighs and cried aloud, —

' What land have I come to now ? And what can
I do with all this treasure? If the Sea-kings did not
really mean to send me back to Ithaca they should
have conveyed me to some other people who would
have sent me home." And then he counted the gifts
over, the golden vessels, and the beautiful garments,
and found nothing missing, but they gave him no
pleasure; and he turned sadly to walk along the shore
and dream of home, when a young herdsman met
him, of noble figure, with a javelin in his hand and a
fine mantle in double folds upon his shoulders. Ulysses
was glad to greet him, and asked what country he had

335

ULYSSES IN ITHACA

reached. It was Athene in disguise, and she answered,
"Truly, stranger, you must have come from far indeed.
For this is a famous island that all men know, whether
they live in the east or in the west. It is a rugged land,
and no place for horses and chariots, but though it
is narrow, it is not so poor; for there are stores of
corn and wine, plenty of water for the cattle and plenty
of wood. Its name is Ithaca, and some men have heard
of it even at Troy, which they say is a long way off."

Then brave Ulysses rejoiced in his heart to hear
that it was his native land; but he would not tell the
herdsman who he was, and made up a cunning story
that he had escaped as an outlaw from Crete and had
been left upon the island by a Phoenician crew. And
the goddess smiled to hear him, and stood forth in
her own true form, a wise and noble woman, tall and
fair, and put her hand upon his shoulder, and said, -

" Come, let us practice no more craft on one an-
other, Ulysses, for we are both famous for our wit and
wiles, you among mortals and I among the Gods. I
am Pallas Athene, daughter of Zeus, and I have stood
beside you and protected you in all your wanderings
and toil. And now I have come here to tell you of the
troubles that await you in your house, and to help
you with my counsel. But you must still endure in
silence, and tell no one that Ulysses has returned."

And Ulysses made answer, 'It is hard, goddess,
for a mortal to know you, wise though he may be, for
you come in many shapes. Truly I have known your
kindness from of old in Troy, but when we went on
board the ships, I never saw you at my side again.

336

ULYSSES LANDS IN ITHACA

Tell me, I pray you, if this is Ithaca indeed, my native
land."

Then the goddess answered, 'I see, Ulysses, that
you keep your ready wit and steadfast mind. I could
not show myself your friend before for fear of anger-
ing Neptune, my own father's brother. But come now,
and I will show you Ithaca; there is the haven and
the olive with its slender leaves, and the cave where
you once made many an offering to the water nymphs.'*

And then she rolled away the mist, and the long-
suffering hero rejoiced to see his native land again.
He kissed the kindly earth, and vowed to the nymphs
that he would bring them offerings as of old if he lived
to see his dear son a man.

Then the goddess bade him be of good cheer, and
showed him a hiding-place in the cavern for the gifts.
And then they sat down by the trunk of the olive-tree,

»/ «-

and Athene told him all the misdeeds of the suitors,
and how his wife had beguiled them and kept them
waiting till his return, and how he must avenge him-
self and her.

Then Ulysses said, "Truly, I should have perished
in my own halls, like Agamemnon, if you had not
warned me. Help me, therefore, with your wisdom,
and stand beside me again and put strength and cour-
age within me as in the days of Troy. For with you by
my side I could fight against three hundred men."

And Pallas Athene made answer, "I will be with
you, Ulysses, when the hour of the conflict is come,
and the blood of the suitors who eat up your substance
shall be shed at last. But now I will change you into

337

ULYSSES IN ITHACA

a poor beggar, so old and so wretched that no one will
know you, and in that guise you must go and stay with
the herdsman Eumseus, who tends your swine, until
I have brought your son Telemachus from Sparta,
where he has gone to seek tidings of you."

Then she touched him with her magic wand, and
the fair flesh withered on his limbs, and the golden
locks fell from his head, and he was changed into an
old man. His skin was shriveled and his bright eyes
dimmed, and for his covering she gave him a tattered
wrap, begrimed with smoke, and a worn deerskin on
his shoulder, and a wallet and a staff in his hand.

Then she vanished, and left him to take his way
alone across the hills.

ULYSSES AT THE HOUSE OF
THE SWINEHERD

By F. S. Marvin, R. J. C. Mayor, and F. M.

Stowell

TLYSSES went up along the rough mountain
I_J path, through the forest and over the hills, till
he came to the house where his faithful steward lived.
It stood in an open space, and there was a large court-
yard in front with a wall of heavy stones and hawthorn
boughs and a stout oak palisade. Inside the yard
there were twelve sties for the pigs, and the swine-
herd kept four watch-dogs to guard the place, great
beasts and fierce as wolves, that he had reared him-
self. Ulysses found him at home, sitting in the porch
alone, and cutting himself a pair of sandals from a
brown oxhide.

The dogs caught sight of the king as soon as he
came up and flew at him, barking, but he had the wit
to let go his staff and sit down at once on the ground.
Still it might have gone hard with him there in front
of his own servant's house had not Eumaeus rushed
out of the porch, dropping the leather in his haste,
and scolded the dogs, driving them off with a volley
of stones.

Then he said to Ulysses, "A little more, old man,
and the dogs would have torn you in pieces, and dis-

339

ULYSSES IN ITHACA

graced me forever. And I have my full share of trouble
as it is, for I have lost the best master in all the world
and must sit here to mourn for him and fatten his
swine for other men, while he is wandering somewhere
in foreign lands, hungry and thirsty perhaps, if he is
still alive at all. But now come in yourself, and let me
give you food and drink and tell me your own tale."

So he took Ulysses into the house and made a seat
for him with a pile of brushwood boughs and a great
thick shaggy goat-skin which he used for his own bed,
and all with so kind a welcome that it warmed the
king's heart and made him pray the Gods to bless him
for his goodness. But Eumseus only said, "How could
I neglect a stranger, though he were a worse man than
you ? All strangers and beggars are sent to us by Zeus.
Take my gift and welcome, though it is little enough
I have to give, a servant such as I, with new masters
to lord it over him. For we have lost the king who
would have loved me and given me house and lands
and all that a faithful servant ought to have, whose
work is blest by the Gods and prospers, as mine does
here. Alas! he is dead and gone! he went away with
Agamemnon to fight at Troy and never came home
again."

So saying, the good swineherd rose and fetched
what meat and wine he had, and set it before Ulysses,
grieving that he had nothing better for him because
the shameless suitors plundered everything.

But Ulysses ate and drank eagerly, and when his
strength had come again he asked Eumaeus, "My
friend, who is this master of yours you tell me of?

340

AT THE HOUSE OF tHE SWINEHERD

Did you not say he was lost fPr Agamemnon's sake?
Perhaps I may have seen him, for I have traveled far."

But the swineherd answered :'old man, his wife
and son will believe no traveler's tale. They have
heard too many such. Every wandering beggar who
comes to Ithaca goes to my mistress with some empty
story to get a meal for himself, and she welcomes him
and treats him kindly and ask? him about it all, with
the tears running down her che'eks in a woman's way.
Yes, even you, old man, migH't learn to weave such
tales if you thought they woul^ get 7OU a cloak or a
vest. No, he is dead, and dogs and birds have eaten
him, or else he has fed the fishes and his bones lie
somewhere on the seashore, buried in the sand. And
he has left us all to grieve for hiiP> but n° one more than
me, who can never have so kiild a master .again, not
though I had my heart's desire and went back to my
native land and saw my fathef and mother, and the
dear home where I was born. Jt is Ulysses above all
whom I long to see once moi'e- There, stranger, I
have called him by his name, arld that I should not do;
for he is still my dear master though he is far away."

Then Ulysses said, "My friePd» your hope has gone
and you will never believe me. But I tell you this and
seal it with an oath: Ulysses ^m return! Poor as I
am, I will take no reward for mv news till he comes
to his own again, but you sha^1 give me a new vest
and cloak that day, and I will wear them."

But the swineherd answered ''Ah, my friend, I
shall never need to pay you that reward. He will never
come back again. But now drink v°ur wine in peace,

341

ULYSSES IN ITHACA

and let us talk of something else, and do not call to
mind the sorrow that almost breaks my heart. Tell me
of yourself and your own troubles and who you are,
and what ship brought you here, for you will not say
you came afoot."

Then Ulysses pretended he was a Cretan and had
fought at Troy, and told Eumseus a long tale of ad-
ventures and how he had been wrecked at last on the
coast of Epirus. The king of the country, he said,
had rescued him, and he had learned that Ulysses
had been there a little while before, and was already
on his way to Ithaca.

The swineherd listened eagerly to it all, but when
Ulysses had finished he said, "Poor friend, my heart
aches to hear of all your sufferings. But there is one
thing you should not have said, one thing I can never
believe, arid that is that Ulysses will return. And why
need you lie to please me? I can see for myself that
you are old and unhappy, a wanderer whom the Gods
have sent to me. It is not for such a tale I will show
you the kindness that you need, but because I pity
you myself and reverence the law of Zeus."

"If I lie," Ulysses answered, 'you may have me
thrown from the cliff as a warning to other cheats. I
swear it, and call the Gods to witness."

But the true-hearted swineherd only said, " I should
get a good name by that, my friend, if I took you into
my house and had you for my guest, and then mur-
dered you brutally ! Do you think I could pray to Zeus
after that without a fear ? But now it is supper-time,
and my men will be coming home."

342

AT THE HOUSE OF THE SWINEHERD

While they spoke, the herdsmen came up with the
swine, and the sows were driven into the pens, grunt-
ing and squealing noisily as they settled in for the night.
Then Eumseus called out, "Bring in the fattest boar,
and let us make a sacrifice in honor of our guest, and
get some reward ourselves for all the trouble we have
spent upon the drove, - - trouble lost, since strangers
take the fruit of it all."

So they brought in a big fat white-tusked boar,
while Eumseus split the wood for the fire. And he did
not forget the Immortals, for he had a pious heart:
he made the due offerings first and prayed for his mas-
ter's return, and then he stood up at the board to carve,
and gave each man his share and a special slice for
his guest from the whole length of the chine. Ulysses
took it and thanked him with all his heart : —

" May Father Zeus be your friend, Eumseus, and give
you what I would give you for your kindness to a poor
old man like me."

But the swineherd said, "Take it, my good friend,
take it and enjoy it. Zeus will give or withhold as it
may please him, for he can do all things."

So they sat down to the feast, and after they had
had their fill the swineherd's servant cleared everything
away, and then they made ready for sleep. The even-
ing closed in black and stormy, and a west wind
sprang up bringing the rain with it, and blew hard all
the night; so Eumseus made up a bed of fleeces for
Ulysses by the fire and gave him a great thick cloak as
well, that he kept for the roughest weather. But he
could not bring himself to stay there too, away from

343

ULYSSES IN ITHACA

his herd of pigs, and he wrapped himself up warmly and
went out to sleep beside them in the open. Ulysses
saw, and smiled to see, what care he took of everything,
while he thought his master was far away.

[On the following morning] Ulysses and the swine-
herd were already preparing their breakfast when
Telemachus came up. The dogs knew him and played
round him lovingly. "Eumseus," said Ulysses, "some
friend of yours is coming, for I hear footsteps, and the
dogs are pleased and do not bark."

He had hardly finished speaking when his own dear
son stood in the doorway. The swineherd started up
and dropped the vessels in which he was mixing the
wine. He went to meet his young master and fell on
his neck and kissed him as a father would kiss an only
son escaped from death. " Light of my eyes, dear son,
have you come home at last ? When you sailed away
to Pylos, I never thought to see you again. But come
in and let me feast my eyes upon you; for you do not
often visit us, but are kept at home in the town, watch-
ing that crowd of ruinous suitors."

And Telemachus answered, "Gladly, good father;
I have come to see you, and to hear tidings of my
mother."

Then the swineherd told him that his mother still
waited patiently at home, and spent her days and nights
in weeping.

Then Telemachus went into the house, and as he
came up Ulysses rose to give him his seat, but he would
not take it, and said, "Keep your seat, stranger, this
man shall make up another for me." So Ulysses sat

344

"DEAR SON, HAVE YOU COME HOME AT LAST? WHEN YOU SAILED
AWAY TO PYLOS, I NEVER THOUGHT TO SEE YOU AGAIN. BUT COME
IN AND LET ME FEAST MY EYES UPON YOU; FOR YOU DO NOT
OFTEN VISIT US, BUT ARE KEPT AT HOME IN THE TOWN, WATCH-
ING THAT CRO\VD OF RUINOUS SUITORS." AND TELEMACHUS AN-
SWERED, "GLADLY, GOOD FATHER; I HAVE COME TO SEE YOU,
AND TO HEAR TIDINGS OF MY MOTHER." THEN THE SWINEHERD
TOLD HIM THAT HIS MOTHER STILL WAITED PATIENTLY AT HOME

AT THE HOUSE OF THE SWINEHERD

down again, and the swineherd made a seat for Tele-
machus of the green brushwood and put a fleece upon
it. Then he set food before them, and when they had
eaten, Telemachus asked who the stranger was, and
how he had come to Ithaca. And Eumseus told him
Ulysses's own story and begged him to protect the
wanderer. But Telemachus thought of the suitors and
did not wish to take him to the palace.

"I will give him a coat and a vest," he said, "and
shoes for his feet, and a two-edged sword, and I will
send him on his way. But I cannot take him into the
house, where the suitors would mock at him and use
him ill. One man cannot restrain them, and he so
young as I."

Then Ulysses said, "Sir, if I may speak, I would
say foul wrong is done you in your house, and my heart
burns at the thought. Do your people hate you, or
will your brothers give you no support ? Would that
I were as young as you are, and were Ulysses's son
or Ulysses himself. I would go to the palace and fall
upon all the throng, and die there, one man against
a hundred, sooner than see the shameful deeds that
are done in that glorious house."

And Telemachus answered, "Hear me, stranger,
and I will tell you all. My people do not hate me, and
I have no quarrel with them. But I have no brothers
to stand by me, for Zeus has never given more than
one son to each generation of our line. And there are
many foemen in the house, all the princes of the islands,
and they too woo my mother and threaten my life,
and I cannot see how it will end."

345

ULYSSES IN ITHACA

Then he said to Eumseus, " Go up to the house,
old father, as quickly as you can, and tell my mother
that I am come back safe from Pylos, and I will wait
for you here."

And Eumseus answered, " I hear, master, and under-
stand. But shall I not go to Laertes on my way and
tell him too ? For since you set sail for Pylos, they
say he has not eaten or drunk or gone about his work,
but sits in his house sorrowing and wasting away with
grief."

But Telemachus bade him go straight to the palace
and return at once, and let the queen send word to
Laertes by one of the maids. So Eumaeus went forth,
and when Athene saw him go, she drew near, and came
and stood by the gateway and showed herself to Ulys-
ses, a tall and beautiful woman, with wisdom in her
look. The dogs saw her too and were afraid, and shrank
away whining into the corner of the yard, but Tele-
machus could not see her. Then the goddess nodded
to Ulysses, and he went out and stood before her, and
she said, "Noble Ulysses, now is the time to reveal
yourself to your son, and go forth with him to the
town, with death and doom for the suitors. I shall be
near you in the battle and eager to fight."

Then she touched him with her golden wand and
gave him his beauty and stature once more, and his old
bronzed color came back and his beard grew thick
and his garments shone bright again: and so she sent
him to the hut. And when Telemachus saw him, he
marveled and turned away his eyes, for he thought
it must be a god.

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AT THE HOUSE OF THE SWINEHERD

"Stranger," he said, "you are changed since a mo-
ment ago; your color is not the same, nor your gar-
ments. If you are one of the Immortals, be gracious to
us, and let us offer you gifts and sacrifice."

Then Ulysses cried out, " I am no god, but your own
dear father, for whose sake you are suffering cruel
wrongs and the spite of men." And then he kissed his
son and let his tears take their way at last.

But Telemachus could not believe it, and said, " You
cannot be my father, but a god come down to deceive
me and make me grieve still more. No mortal could
do what you have done, for a moment since you were
old and wretched, and poorly clad, and now you seem
like one of the heavenly Gods."

Then his father answered, "My son, no other Ulys-
ses will ever come back to you. Athene has done this
wonder, for she is a goddess and can make men what
she will, now poor, now rich, now old, now young;
such power have the lords of heaven to exalt us or
bring us low."

Then Telemachus fell on his neck, and they wept
aloud together. And they would have wept out their
hearts till evening, had not Telemachus asked his
father how he had come to Ithaca at last; and Ulysses
told him that the sea-kings had brought him and put
him on shore asleep, and that Athene had sent him
to the swineherd's hut. " But now tell me of the suitors.
How many are they and what manner of men ? Can
the two of us make head against the throng?"

"Father," he answered, "I know well your fame,
mighty and wise in war. But this we could never dare,

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

two men against a host. They are a hundred and twenty
in all, the best fighting men from Ithaca and the islands
round. Think, if you can, of some champion who
would befriend us and give us help."

And Ulysses made answer, "What think you, if
Father Zeus and the goddess Athene stood by our
side ? Should we still need other help ? "

'Truly they are the best of champions," said Tele-
machus, "though they sit on high among the clouds;
and they rule both men and Gods." "And they will
be with us," said his father, " when we come to the trial
of war. Now at daybreak you must go home and mix
with the suitors, and later on the swineherd will bring
me to the town, disguised again as the old beggar-
man; and if they ill-treat me or even strike me or drag
me out of the house, you must look on and bear it.
You may check them by speaking, but they will not
listen, for the day of their doom is at hand. And tell
no one that Ulysses has come home, not even Laertes
nor the swineherd nor Penelope herself; we must keep
the secret until we are sure of our friends."

Then Telemachus said that his father might trust
him, and so they talked on together. Meanwhile
Eumseus had reached the palace with the tidings that
Telemachus had returned; and the suitors who were
in the hall heard it and were dismayed, for they saw
that their plot had failed. They went out of the palace
and sat down before the gates, and were talking of
sending word to their ship that was lying in wait for
Telemachus, when the ship itself came into the harbor,
with the other princes on board. So they all went up

348

AT THE HOUSE OF THE SWINEHERD

together to the public square and debated what to do,
and they resolved to murder Telemachus as soon as
they found another chance. Then they went back
and sat down again on the polished seats in the hall.

Now Medon the herald had heard them plotting
together in the square, and went and told Penelope
all they had said, and how they had purposed putting
her son to death. She went down at once to the hall
with her women, and stood in the doorway with her
bright veil before her face and spoke to Antinous
and said, 'Wicked and insolent man, can it be that
they call you in Ithaca one of their wisest men ? No,
it is a fool's work you are doing, plotting to kill my
son. He is helpless before you now, but Zeus is the
friend of the helpless and avenges their wrongs. Im-
pious and ungrateful too! Did not Ulysses once shield
your father from his enemies and save his life ? Yet
you waste his substance and would murder his son ? "

Then Eurymachus spoke and tried to soothe her.
No one, he said, should injure Telemachus while he
was alive, for he loved him more than any man on
earth. Eurymachus's words were fair, and Penelope
could say no more; yet all the while he was planning
the death of her son.

In the evening the swineherd reached his hut again,
and found Ulysses changed to the old beggar-man
once more, preparing supper with Telemachus.

'WTiat news, good Eumseus?" said the young man.
' Have the proud lords come home from their ambush,
or are they still waiting out yonder to take me as I
return ? "

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

And Eumseus replied, " I did not stay, master, to go
through the town and find out the news, for when I had
given my message I wanted to be at home. But one
thing I saw from the brow of the hill as I came along.
A swift ship was entering the harbor, full of armor and
armed men. They may have been the princes, but I
cannot say."

As he heard this, Telemachus looked at his father
and smiled, but he took good care that the swineherd
should not see.

THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

A. HIS RECEPTION AT THE PALACE

By F. S. Marvin, R. J. C. Mayor, and F. M.

Stow ell

EARLY next morning, when the rosy-fingered dawn
was in the sky, Telemachus bound on his sandals
and took his stout spear in his hand, and said to the
swineherd, " Old friend, I must now be off to the city
and let my mother see me, for I know she will weep
and sigh until I am there myself. And as for this poor
stranger, I would have you take him to the town and
let him beg for bite and sup from door to door, and those
who choose can give. For I cannot be host to every
wanderer with all the trouble I have to bear. And
if that makes him angry - - well ! it is only the worse
for him; I am a man that speaks his mind."

Then Ulysses answered readily, "Sir, I do not ask
to stay here myself; a beggar should not beg in the
fields. Nor am I young enough to work on a farm at
a master's beck and call. So go your ways, and your
man shall take me with him to the town. But I will
wait till the sun is high, for I am afraid of the morning
frost with these threadbare rags of mine."

So Telemachus strode away until he reached the
palace, and went into the hall. The old nurse Eury-

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

cleia was there with the maids, spreading- fleeces on
the inlaid stools and chairs; and she saw him at once
and went up to him with tears in her eyes, and then
all the women gathered round and kissed him and
welcomed him home again. And Penelope came down
from her chamber and flung her arms round her son,
and kissed his head and both his eyes, and said to him
tearfully, 'You have come home, Telemachus, light
of my eyes! I thought I should never see you again,
when you sailed away to Pylos secretly, against my
will, to get tidings of your father. And now tell me
all you heard."

But Telemachus said to her, 'Mother, why make
me think of trouble now, when I have just escaped
from death ? Rather put on your fairest robes, and go
and pray the Gods to grant us a day of vengeance.
But I must be off to the public square to meet a guest
of mine whom I brought here in my ship. I sent him
on before me with the crew, and bade one of them
take him to his house until I came myself."

So Penelope went away and prayed to the Gods,
while the prince went down to the public square and
found Theoclymenus and brought him back to the
palace, and they sat down together in the hall. Then
one of the old servants brought up a polished table and
spread it for them with good things for their meal, and
Penelope came and sat beside the door, spinning her
fine soft yarn. She did not speak till they had finished,
but then she said to her son, "Telemachus, I see I
must go up to my room and lie down on my bed, the bed
I have watered with my tears ever since Ulysses went

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THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

away to Troy; for you are determined not to talk to
me and tell me the news of your father before the suitors
come into the hall!"

Then Telemachus said, " Mother, I will tell you all
I know. We reached Pylos and found Nestor there,
and he took me into his splendid house, and welcomed
me as lovingly as though I had been a long-lost son
of his own. But he could tell me nothing of my father,
not even if he were alive or dead, and so he sent me on
to Sparta, to the house of Menelaus. There I saw Helen,
the fairest of women, for whom the Greeks and Trojans
fought and suffered so long. Menelaus asked me why
I came and I told him about the suitors and all the
wrong they did. Then he cried, 'Curse on them!
The dastards in the hero's place! Oh, that Ulysses
would return! They would soon have cause enough
to hate this suit of theirs!' And then he told me how
he had heard tidings of my father from Proteus, the
wizard of the sea. He was living still, so the wizard
said, on an island far away, in the cave of a wood
nymph called Calypso, who kept him there against
his will, and he had no ship to carry him over the broad
sea. That was all Menelaus could tell me; and when
I had done my errand I came awray, and the Gods
have brought me home in safety."

And as Penelope listened her heart filled with sorrow ;
but Theoclymenus, the seer, said to her, " Listen to
me, wrife of Ulysses, and I will prophesy to you; for
your son has heard nothing certain, but I have seen
omens that are sure. I swear by Zeus, the ruler of the
Gods, and by the board and the hearth of Ulysses him-

«/ »/

353

ULYSSES IN ITHACA

self where I am standing now, he is already here in
Ithaca, he knows of all this wickedness, and is waiting
to punish the suitors as they deserve."

At that moment the princes came in from- their
sport and flung their cloaks aside, and set about slaugh-
tering the sheep and the fatted goats and the swine
for their feast.

Meanwhile Ulysses was starting for the town, with
the swineherd to show him the way. He had slung
the tattered wallet across his shoulder, and Eumseus
had given him a staff, and every one who met them would
have taken the king for a poor old beggar-man, hob-
bling along with his crutch.

So they went down the rocky path till they reached
a running spring by the wayside where the townsfolk
got their water. There was a grove of tall poplars round
it, and the cool stream bubbled down from the rock
overhead, and above the fountain there was an altar
to the nymphs where the passers-by laid their offer-
ings.

There they chanced to meet Melanthius, the king's
goatherd, driving his fattest goats to the town for the
suitors' feast. He was a favorite of theirs, and did all
he could to please them. Now as soon as he saw the
two he broke out into scoffs and gibes, till the heart of
Ulysses grew hot with anger.

'Look there!" he shouted, "one rascal leading an-
other ! Trust a man to find his mate ! A plague on you,
swineherd, where are you taking that pitiful wretch ?
Another beggar, I suppose, to hang about the doors
and cringe for the scraps and spoil our feasts ? Now

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THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

if you would only let me have him to watch my farm
and sweep out my stalls and fetch fodder for my kids,
he could drink as much whey as he liked and get some
flesh on his bones. But no! His tricks have spoilt him
for any honest work!"

So he jeered at them in his folly, and as he passed
he kicked Ulysses on the thigh, but the king stood
firm, and took the blow in silence, though he could have
found it in his heart to strike the man dead on the spot.
But Eumseus turned round fiercely, and cried to the
Gods for vengeance.

''Nymphs of the spring," he prayed, "if ever my
master honored you, hear my prayer, and send him
home again ! He would make a sweep of all your
insolence, you good-for-nothing wretch, loitering here
in the city while your flocks are left to ruin!"

" Oho ! " cried Melanthius. " Listen to the foul-
mouthed dog! I must put him on board a ship and
sell him in a foreign land, and make some use of him
that way! Why, Ulysses will never see the day of his
return ! He is dead and gone ; I wish his son would
follow him!"

With that he turned on his heel and hastened away
to the palace hall, where he sat down with the suitors
at their feast. And the other two followed slowly until
they reached the gate. There they paused, and Ulysses
caught the swineherd by the hand, and cried, —

'Eumseus, this must be the palace of the king!
No one could mistake it. See, there is room after room,
and a spacious courtyard with a wall and coping-
stones and solid double doors to make it safe. And I

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

am sure that a great company is seated there at the
banquet, for I can smell the roasted meat and hear
the sound of the lyre."

Then Eumseus said, "Your wits are quick enough;
it is the very place. And now tell me: would you
rather go in alone and face the princes while I wait
here, or will you stay behind and let me go in first?
But if you wait here, you must not wait too long, for
some one might catch sight of you and strike you and
drive you from the gate."

Then the hero said to him, "I understand; I knew
what I had to meet. Do vou go first and I will wait

t/ O

behind. For I have some knowledge of thrusts and
blows, and my heart has learned to endure; for I
have suffered much in storm and battle, and I can
bear this like the rest."

But while they were talking, a dog who was lying
there lifted his head and pricked his ears. It was the
hound Argus, whom Ulysses had reared himself long
ago before the war, but had to leave behind when he
went away to Troy. Once he used to follow the hunters
to the chase, but no one cared for, him now when his
master was away, and he lay there covered with ver-
min, on a dung-heap in front of the gates. Yet even
so, when he felt that Ulysses wTas near him, he wagged
his tail and dropped his ears; but he had not strength
enough to drag himself up to his master. And when
Ulysses saw it, he turned away his face so that Eumaeus
should not see the tears in his eyes, and said, " Eumaeus,
it is strange that they let that dog lie there in the dung.
He looks a noble creature, but perhaps he has never

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THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

been swift enough for the chase, and they have only
kept him for his beauty."

"Ah, yes!" Eumseus answered, ''it is easy to see
that he has no master now. If you had been here when
Ulysses went to Troy, you would have wondered at
the creature's pace and strength. In the thickest depth
of the forest no quarry could escape him, and no hound
was ever keener-scented. But now he is old and wretched
and his lord has perished far away, and the heedless
women take no care of him. Slaves can do nothing
as they ought when the master is not there, for a man
loses half his manhood when he falls into slavery."

Then Eumseus went on into the palace and up to
the hall where the suitors were. But Argus had seen
his master again at last, and when he had seen him,
he died.

As soon as the swineherd came in, Telemachus
caught sight of him, and beckoned him to a stool at
his side, and gave him his share of the feast. After a
little while Ulysses came up too, and sat down on the
threshold like a poor old beggar-man. Then his son
sent him meat and bread by the swineherd, and said
that a beggar should be bold, and he ought to go among
the princes and ask each man for a dole. So he went
round from one to the other, stretching out his hand
for a morsel in the true beggar's way. And every one
else felt some pity and gave him an alms, but Antinous
mocked at them all and told them they were' ready
enough to be generous with another's wealth. And
at last he grew angry and cursed Ulysses for a whining
rascal, and hurled a footstool at his head, bidding

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

him begone and trouble them no more. The stool
struck Ulysses on the shoulder, but he stood like a rock,
motionless and silent, with black thoughts in his heart.
Then he went back straight to the threshold and sat
down and spoke to all the company: —

" Listen to me, my lords ! No man bears any rancor
for a blow in open war, but Antinous has struck me
because I am a beggar and know the curse of hunger.
If there be any gods who avenge the poor man's
cause, I pray that he may die before his marriage day ! "

At that the others felt shame, and told Antinous he
did wrong to strike the homeless wanderer.

"Who knows ?" they said. "He might be one of the
heavenly Gods, and woe to you if he were! For some-
times the Immortals take upon themselves the likeness
of strangers, and enter our cities, and go about among
men, watching the good and evil that they do."

Thus they warned him, but he cared little for all
they said. And Telemachus sat there full of rage and
grief to see his father struck, but he kept back the
tears and held his peace.

Now Penelope was sitting in her room behind the
hall, and she saw what had happened, and was angry
with Antinous, and called the swineherd to her side.

" Go, good Eumaeus, and tell the stranger to come
here. And I will ask him if he has ever heard of Ulys-

V

ses, for he looks like a man who has wandered far."

And the swineherd said, "Yes, he is a Cretan, and
has had all kinds of adventures before he was driven
here, and he could tell you stories that would charm
you like a minstrel's sweetest song, and you would

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THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

never tire of listening. And he says that he has heard
of Ulysses, near home, in the rich land of Epirus, and
that he is already on his way to us, bringing a store of
treasures with him."

Then Penelope said, "Quick, bring the stranger
here at once, and let him speak with me face to face.
And if I see that he tells the truth I will give him a vest
and a cloak for himself."

So the swineherd hurried back with the message;
but Ulysses said he dared not face the princes a second
time and it would be better to speak with Penelope
later in the evening, alone by the fireside; and when
the queen heard this, she said that the stranger was
right. By this time it was afternoon, and Eumseus
went up to Telemachus and whispered that he must
be off to his work again. Telemachus said he might
go, but bade him have supper first and told him to
come back next morning without fail. So the swine-
herd took his food in the hall, and then started home
for his farm, to look after his pigs and everything that
he had charge of there.

B. THE TRIAL OF THE BOW

Translated by George Herbert Palmer

AND now the goddess, clear-eyed Athene, put in
the mind of Icarius's daughter, heedful Penelope,
to offer to the suitors in the hall the bow and the
gray steel, as means of sport and harbingers of death.
She mounted the long stairway of her house, holding

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

a crooked key in her firm hand, - - a goodly key of
bronze, having an ivory handle, - - and hastened with
her damsels to a far-off room where her lord's treasure
lay, bronze, gold, and well-wrought steel. Here also
lay his curved bow and the quiver for his arrows, -
and many grievous shafts were in it still, - - gifts which
a friend had given Ulysses when he met him once in
Lacedaemon, — Iphitus, son of Eurytus, a man like
the Immortals. At Messene the two met, in the house
of wise Orsilochus. Ulysses had come hither to claim
a debt, which the whole district owed him; for upon
ships of many oars Messenians carried off from Ithaca
three hundred sheep together with their herdsmen.
In the long quest for these, Ulysses took the journey
when he was but a youth; for his father and the other
elders sent him forth. Iphitus, on the other hand,
was seeking horses; for twelve mares had been lost,
which had as foals twelve hardy mules. These after-
wards became the death and doom of Iphitus when
he met the stalwart son of Zeus, the hero Hercules,
who well knew deeds of daring; for Hercules slew
Iphitus in his own house, although his guest, and reck-
lessly did not regard the anger of the Gods nor yet the
proffered table, but slew the man and kept at his own
hall the strong-hoofed mares. It was when seeking
these that Iphitus had met Ulysses and given the bow
which in old days great Eurytus was wont to bear,
and which on dying in his lofty hall he left his son.
To Iphitus Ulysses gave a sharp-edged sword and a
stout spear, as the beginning of a loving friendship.
They never sat, however, at one another's table; ere

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THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

that could be, the son of Zeus slew godlike Iphitus,
the son of Eurytus, who gave the bow. Royal Ulys-
ses, when going off to war in the black ships, would
never take this bow. It always stood in its own place
at home, as a memorial of his honored friend. In his
own land he bore it.

Now \vhen the royal lady reached this room and
stood on the oaken threshold, - - which long ago the car-
penter had smoothed with skill and leveled to the line,
fitting the posts thereto and setting the shining doors,
- then quickly from its ring she loosed the strap,
thrust in the key, and with a careful aim shot back
the door-bolts. As a bull roars when feeding in the
field, so roared the goodly door touched by the key,
and open flew before her. She stepped to a raised
dais where stood some chests in which lay fragrant
garments. Thence reaching up, she took from its peg
the bow in the glittering case which held it. And now
she sat her down and laid the case upon her lap, and
loudly weeping drew her lord's bow forth. But when
she had had her fill of tears and sighs, she hastened
to the hall to meet the lordly suitors, bearing in hand
the curved bow and the quiver for the arrows, and
many grievous shafts were in it still. Beside her, dam-
sels bore a box in which lay many a piece of steel
and bronze, implements of her lord's for games like
these. And when the royal lady reached the suitors,
she stood beside a column of the strong-built roof,
holding before her face her delicate wimple, the while
a faithful damsel stood on either hand. And straight-
way she addressed the suitors, speaking thus : —

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

"Hearken, you haughty suitors who beset this house,
eating and drinking ever, now my husband is long
gone; no word of excuse can you suggest except your
wish to marry me and win me for your wife. Well
then, my suitors, - - since before you stands your prize,
- 1 offer you the mighty bow of prince Ulysses ; and
whoever with his hands shall lightliest bend the bow
and shoot through all twelve axes, him will I follow
and forsake this home, this bridal home, so very beau-
tiful and full of wealth, a place I think I ever shall
remember, even in my dreams."

So saying, she bade Eumaeus, the noble swine-
herd, deliver to the suitors the bow and the gray steel.
With tears Eumseus took the arms and laid them down
before them. Near by, the neatherd also wept to see
his master's bow. But Antinous rebuked them, and
spoke to them and said, —

"You stupid boors, who only mind the passing
minute, wretched pair, what do you mean by shedding
tears, troubling this lady's heart, when already her heart
is prostrated with grief at losing her dear husband ?
Sit down and eat in silence, or else go forth and weep,
but leave the bow behind, a dread ordeal for the suit-
ors; for I am sure this polished bow will not be bent
with ease. There is not a man of all now here so power-
ful as Ulysses. I saw him once myself, and well recall
him, though I was then a child."

He spoke, but in his breast his heart was hoping to
draw the string and send an arrow through the steel;
yet he was to be the first to taste the shaft of good
Ulysses, whom he now wronged though seated in his

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THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

hall, while to like outrage he encouraged all his com-
rades. To these now spoke revered Telemachus: —

"Ha! Zeus the son of Cronos has made me play
the fool ! My mother — and wise she is - - says she
will follow some strange man and quit this house;
and I but laugh and in my silly soul am glad. Come
then, you suitors, since before you stands your prize,
a lady whose like cannot be found throughout Achaian
land, in sacred Pylos, Argos, or Mycenae, in Ithaca
itself, or the dark mainland, as you yourselves well
know, - - what needs my mother praise ? - - come then,
delay not with excuse nor longer hesitate to bend the
bow, but let us learn what is to be. I too might try
the bow. And if I stretch it and send an arrow through
the steel, then with no shame to me my honored mother
may forsake this house and follow some one else,
leaving me here behind; for I shall then be able to
wield my father's arms."

He spoke, and flung his red cloak from his shoulders,
rising full height, and put away the sharp sword also
from his shoulder. First then he set the axes, mark-
ing one long furrow for them all, aligned by cord.
The earth on the two sides he stamped down flat.
Surprise filled all beholders to see how properly he
set them, though he had never seen the game before.
Then he went and stood upon the threshold and began
to try the bow. Three times he made it tremble as
he sought to make it bend. Three times he slacked
his strain, still hoping in his heart to draw the string
and send an arrow through the steel. And now he
might have drawn it by force of a fourth tug, had

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

not Ulysses shaken his head and stayed the eager boy.
So to the suitors once more spoke revered Telema-
chus : —

" Fie ! Shall I ever be a coward and a weakling, or
am I still but young and cannot trust my arm to right
me with the man who wrongs me first ? But come,
you who are stronger men than I, come try the bow
and end the contest."

So saying, he laid by the bow and stood it on the
ground, leaning it on the firm-set polished door. The
swift shaft, too, he likewise leaned against the bow's
fair knob, and once more took the seat from which he
first arose. Then said to them Antinous, Eupeithes'
son, —

"Rise up in order all, from left to right, beginning
where the cupbearer begins to pour the wine."

So said Antinous, and his saying pleased them.
Then first arose Leiodes, son of QEnops, who was
their soothsayer and had his place beside the goodly
mixer, farthest along the hall. To him alone their
lawlessness was hateful; he abhorred the suitor crowd.
He it was now who first took up the bow and the swift
shaft; and going to the threshold, he stood and tried
the bow. He could not bend it. Tugging the string
wearied his hands, — his soft, unhorny hands, — and to
the suitors thus he spoke : —

"No, friends, I cannot bend it. Let some other
take the bow. Ah, many chiefs this bow shall rob
of life and breath! Yet better far to die than live and
still to fail in that for which we constantly are gathered,
waiting expectantly from day to day! Now each man

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THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

hopes and purposes at heart to win Penelope, Ulysses'
wife. But when he shall have tried the bow and seen
his failure, then to some other fair-robed woman of
Achaia let each go, and offer her his suit and woo her
with his gifts. So may Penelope marry the man who
gives her most and comes with fate to favor!"

When he had spoken, he laid by the bow, leaning
it on the firm-set polished door. The swift shaft, too?
he likewise leaned against the bow's fair knob, and
once more took the seat from which he first arose.
But Antinous rebuked him, and spoke to him, and
said, —

'Leiodes, what words have passed the barrier of
your teeth ? Strange words and harsh ! Vexatious
words to hear! As if this bow must rob our chiefs
of life and breath because you cannot bend it! Why,
your good mother did not bear you for a brandisher
of bows and arrows. But others among the lordly
suitors will bend it by and by."

So saying, he gave an order to Melanthius, the goat-
herd: ''Hasten, Melanthius, and light a fire in the
hall and set a long bench near, with fleeces on it; then
bring me the large cake of fat which lies inside the
door, that after we have warmed the bow and greased
it well, we young men may try the bow and end the
contest."

He spoke, and straightway Melanthius kindled a
steady fire, and set a bench beside it with a fleece
thereon, and brought out the large cake of fat which
lay inside the door, and so the young men warmed the
bow and made their trial. But yet they could not bend

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

it; they fell far short of power. Antinous, however,
still held back, and prince Eurymachus, who were
the suitors' leaders; for they in manly excellence were
quite the best of all.

Meanwhile out of the house at the same moment came
two men, princely Ulysses' herdsmen of the oxen and the
swine ; and after them came royal Ulysses also from the
iiouse. And when they were outside the gate, beyond
the yard, speaking in gentle words Ulysses said,-

" Neatherd, and you too, swineherd, may I tell a
certain tale, or shall I hide it still ? My heart bids
me speak. How ready would you be to aid Ulysses if
he should come from somewhere, thus, on a sudden,
and a god should bring him home ? Would you sup-
port the suitors or Ulysses ? Speak freely, as your
heart and spirit bid you speak."

Then said to him the herdsman of the cattle, "O
father Zeus, grant this my prayer! May he return
and Heaven be his guide! Then shall you know what
might is mine and how my hands obey."

So prayed Eumseus too to all the Gods, that wise
Ulysses might return to his own home. So when he
knew with certainty the heart of each, finding his words
once more Ulysses said, —

"Lo, it is I, through many grievous toils now in
the twentieth year come to my native land! And yet
I know that of my servants none but you desire my
coming. From all the rest I have not heard one prayer
that I return. To you then I will truly tell what shall
hereafter be. If God by me subdues the lordly suitors,
I will obtain you wives and give you wealth and homes

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THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

established near my own; and henceforth in my eyes
you shall be friends and brethren of Telemachus.
Come, then, and I will show you too a very trusty sign,

- that you may know me certainly and be assured
in heart, - - the scar the boar dealt long ago with his
white tusk, when I once journeyed to Parnassus with
Autolycus's sons."

So saying, he drew aside his rags from the great
scar. And when the two beheld and understood it all,
their tears burst forth; they threw their arms round
wise Ulysses, and passionately kissed his face and neck.
So likewise did Ulysses kiss their heads and hands.
And daylight had gone down upon their weeping had
not Ulysses stayed their tears and said, —

"Have done with grief and wailing, or somebody
in coming from the hall may see, and tell the tale in-
doors. Nay, go in one by one, not all together. I will
go first, you after. And let this be agreed: the rest
within, the lordly suitors, will not allow me to receive
the bow and quiver. But, noble Eumseus, bring the
bow along the room and lay it in my hands. Then tell
the women to lock the hall's close-fitting doors; and
if from their inner room they hear a moaning or a
strife within our walls, let no one venture forth, but
stay in silence at her work. And noble Philcetius,
in your care I put the courtyard gates. Bolt with the
bar and quickly lash the fastening."

So saying, Ulysses made his way into the stately
house, and went and took the seat from which he first
arose. And soon the serving-men of princely Ulysses
entered too.

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

Now Eurymachus held the bow and turned it up
and down, trying to heat it at the glowing fire. But
still, with all his pains, he could not bend it; his proud
soul groaned aloud. Then bitterly he spoke; these
were the words he said, —

"Ah! here is woe for me and woe for all! Not that
I so much mourn missing the marriage, though vexed
I am at that. Still, there are enough more women of
Achaia, both here in sea-girt Ithaca and in the other
cities. But if in strength we fall so short of princely
Ulysses that we cannot bend his bow - - oh, the dis-
grace for future times to know!"

Then said Antinous, Eupeithes' son, " Not so, Eury-
machus, and you yourself know better. To-day through-
out the land is the archer-god's high feast. Who then
could bend a bow? Nay, quietly lay it by; and for
the axes, what if we leave them standing? Nobody,
I am sure, will carry one away and trespass on the
house of Laertes' son, Ulysses. Come then, and let
the wine-pourer give pious portions to our cups, that
after a libation we may lay aside curved bows. To-
morrow morning tell Melanthius, the goatherd, to
drive us here the choicest goats of all his flock; and we
will set the thighs before the archer-god, Apollo, then
try the bow and end the contest."

So said Antinous, and his saying pleased them.
Pages poured water on their hands ; young men brimmed
bowls with drink and served to all, with a first pious
portion for the cups. And after they had poured and
drunk as their hearts would, then in his subtlety said
wise Ulysses, —

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THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

"Hearken, you suitors of the illustrious queen, and
let me tell you what the heart within me bids. I beg
a special favor of Eurymachus, and great Antinous
too; for his advice was wise, that you now drop the
bow and leave the matter with the Gods, and in the
morning God shall grant the power to whom he may.
But give me now the polished bow, and let me in
your presence prove my skill and power and see if I
have yet such vigor left as once there was within my
supple limbs, or whether wanderings and neglect have
ruined all."

At these his words all were exceeding wroth, fear-
ing that he might bend the polished bow. But Anti-
nous rebuked him, and spoke to him and said, "You
scurvy stranger, with not a whit of sense, are you not
satisfied to eat in peace with us, your betters, unstinted
in your food and hearing all we say ? Nobody else,
stranger or beggar, hears our talk. 'T is wine that
goads you, honeyed wine, a thing that has brought
others trouble, when taken greedily and drunk with-
out due measure. Wine crazed the Centaur, famed
Eurytion, at the house of bold Peirithous, on his visit
to the Lapithse. And when his wits were crazed with
wine, he madly wrought foul outrage on the household
of Peirithous. So indignation seized the heroes. Through
the porch and out of doors they rushed, dragging
Eurytion forth, shorn by the pitiless sword of ears
and nose. Crazed in his wits, he went his way, bear-
ing in his bewildered heart the burden of his guilt.
And hence arose a feud between the Centaurs and man-
kind; but the beginning of the woe he himself caused

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

by wine. Even so I prophesy great harm to you, if
you shall bend the bow. No kindness will you meet
from any in our land, but we will send you by black
ship straight to King Echetus, the bane of all man-
kind, out of whose hands you never shall come clear.
Be quiet, then, and take your drink! Do not presume
to vie with younger men!"

Then said to him heedful Penelope, "Antinous, it
is neither honorable nor fitting to worry strangers
who may reach this palace of Telemachus. Do you
suppose the stranger, if he bends the great bow of
Ulysses, confident in his skill and strength of arm,
will lead me home and take me for his wife ? He in
his inmost soul imagines no such thing. Let none of
you sit at the table disturbed by such a thought; for
that could never, never, be!"

Then answered her Eurymachus, the son of Poly-
bus, "Daughter of Icarius, heedful Penelope, we do
not think the man will marry you. Of course that
could not be. And yet we dread the talk of men and
women, and fear that one of the baser sort of the
Achaians say, * Men far inferior sue for a good man's
wife, and cannot bend his polished bow. But some-
body else - - a wandering beggar - - came, and easily
bent the bow and sent an arrow through the steel.'
This they will say, to us a shame indeed. '

Then said to him heedful Penelope, "Eurymachus,
men cannot be in honor in the land and rudely rob
the household of their prince. Why, then, count this
a shame? The stranger is right tall, and well-knit
too, and calls himself the son of a good father. Give

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THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

him the polished bow, and let us see. For this I tell
you, and it shall be done : if he shall bend it and Apollo
grants his prayer, I will clothe him in a coat and tunic,
goodly garments, give him a pointed spear to keep
off dogs and men, a two-edged sword, and sandals
for his feet, and I will send him where his heart and
soul may bid him go,"

Then answered her discreet Telemachus, "My mo-
ther, no Achaian has better right than I to give or to
refuse the bow to any as I will. And out of all who
rule in rocky Ithaca, or in the islands off toward graz-
ing Elis, none may oppose my will, even if I wished to
put the bows into the stranger's hands and let him
take them once for all away. Then seek your cham-
ber and attend to matters of your own, - - the loom,
the distaff, — and bid the women ply their tasks.
Bows are for men, for all, especially for me; for power
within this house rests here."

Amazed, she turned to her own room again, for the
wise saying of her son she laid to heart. And com-
ing to the upper chamber with her maids, she there
bewailed Ulysses, her dear husband, till on her lids
clear-eyed Athene caused a sweet sleep to fall.

Meanwhile the noble swineherd, taking the curved
bow, was bearing it away. But the suitors all broke
into uproar in the hall, and a rude youth would say,
'Where are you carrying the curved bow, you miser-
able swineherd ? Crazy fool ! Soon out among the
swine, away from men, swift dogs shall eat you, —
dogs you yourself have bred, - - will but Apollo and
the other deathless Gods be gracious!"

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

At these their words the bearer of the bow laid it
down where he stood, frightened because the crowd
within the hall cried out upon him. But from the
other side Telemachus called threatening aloud, " Nay,
father! Carry on the bow! You cannot well heed all.
Take care, or I, a nimbler man than you, will drive
you to the fields with pelting stones. Superior in strength
I am to you. Ah, would I were as much beyond the
others in the house, beyond these suitors, in my skill
and strength of arm! Then would I soon send some-
body away in sorrow from. my house; for men work
evil here."

4

He spoke, and all burst into merry laughter and
laid aside their bitter anger with Telemachus. And
so the swineherd, bearing the bow along the hall,
drew near to wise Ulysses and put it in his hands;
then calling aside nurse Eurycleia, thus he said, —

"Telemachus bids you, heedful Eurycleia, to lock
the hall's close-fitting doors; and if a woman from
the inner room hears moaning or a strife within our
walls, let her not venture forth, but stay in silence at
her work."

Such were his words; unwinged, they rested with
her. She locked the doors of the stately hall. Then
silently from the house Philoetius stole forth and straight-
way barred the gates of the fenced court. Beneath
the portico there lay a curved ship's cable, made of
biblus plant. With this he lashed the gates, then passed
indoors himself, and went and took the seat from which
he first arose, eyeing Ulysses. Now Ulysses already
held the bow and turned it round and round, trying

372

THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

it here and there to see if worms had gnawed the horn
while its lord was far away. And glancing at his neigh-
bor one would say, -

"A sort of fancier and a trickster with the bow this
fellow is. No doubt at home he has himself a bow
like that, or means to make one like it. See how he
turns it in his hands this way and that, ready for mis-
chief, - - rascal ! "

Then would another rude youth answer thus : " Oh,
may he always meet with luck as good as when he is
unable now to bend the bow!"

So talked the suitors. Meantime wise Ulysses, when
he had handled the great bow and scanned it closely,
- even as one well skilled to play the lyre and sing
stretches with ease round its new peg a string, securing
at each end the twisted sheep-gut, so without effort
did Ulysses string the mighty bow. Holding it now
with his right hand, he tried its cord; and clear to the
touch it sang, voiced like the swallow. Great conster-
nation came upon the suitors. All faces then changed
color. Zeus thundered loud for signal. And glad was
long-tried royal Ulysses to think the son of crafty Cronos
had sent an omen. He picked up a swift shaft which
lay beside him on the table, drawn. Within the hollow
quiver still remained the rest, which the Achaians
soon should prove. Then laying the arrow on the arch,
he drew the string and arrow notches, and forth from
the bench on which he sat let fly the shaft, with care-
ful aim, and did not miss an axe's ring from first to
last, but clean through all sped on the bronze-tipped
arrow; and to Telemachus he said, -

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

" Telemachus, the guest now sitting in your hall
brings you no shame. I did not miss my mark, nor
in the bending of the bow make a long labor. My
strength is sound as ever, not what the mocking suit-
ors here despised. But it is time for the Achaians
to make supper ready, while it is daylight still; and
then for us in other ways to make them sport, — with
dance and lyre; for these attend a feast."

He spoke and frowned the sign. His sharp sword
then Telemachus girt on, the son of princely Ulysses
clasped his right hand around his spear, and close
beside his father's seat he took his stand, armed with
the gleaming bronze.

C. THE SLAYING OF THE SUITORS

By F. S. Marvin, R. J. C. Mayor, and F. M.

Stowell

TLYSSES sprang to the great threshold with the

i_J bow and quiver in his hand. He poured out the

arrows at his feet, and shouted to the princes, " So ends

the game you could not play! Now for another mark

which no man has ever hit before!"

With that he shot at Antinous. He, as it chanced,
was just lifting a golden cup from the board, never
dreaming that death would meet him there with all
his comrades round him at the feast. But before the
wine touched his lips the arrow struck him in the throat,
and the cup dropped from his hand, and he fell dying
to the floor. The princes sprang to their feet when

374

THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

they saw their comrade fallen, and looked round the
walls for armor, but there was not a spear or shield
to be found. Then they turned in fury on Ulysses:
" Madman, are you shooting at men ? You have slain
the noblest youth in Ithaca, and you shall not live to
draw bow again."

But Ulysses faced them sternly and said, "Dogs,
you thought that I should never return. You have
rioted in my home, and outraged the women of my
household, and you have wooed my own wife while
I was yet a living man. You took no thought for the
Gods who rule in heaven, nor for the indignation of
men in days hereafter. Now your time is come."

All grew pale as he spoke, and Eurymachus alone
found words : " If you are in truth King Ulysses, your
words are just; there have been many shameful deeds
done upon your lands and in your house. But Antinous,
who was the cause of all, lies dead ; it was he who lead
us on, hoping that he might take your kingdom for
himself. Spare us now that he has met his doom, for
we are your own people; and we will make you full
atonement for all that has been eaten and drunk in
your halls."

"Eurymachus, you might give me all you have,
but even then I would not hold my hands until I had
taken vengeance for every wrong. You have your choice.
Fight, or fly, if you think that flight can save you."

At that their knees shook beneath them, but Eury-
machus cried, "Comrades, this man will have no mercy.
He has got the bow in his hands, and he wTill shoot us
down from the threshold, so long as there is one of

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

us left alive. Draw your swords, and guard yourselves
with the tables; and let us all set upon him at once
and drive him from the doorway. If we can reach the
city, we are safe."

As he spoke he drew his sword and sprang forward
with a cry; and at the same moment Ulysses shot. The
arrow struck him in the breast, and he dropped for-
ward over the table, while the mist of death sank upon
his eyes. Then Amphinomus made a rush on the door-
way. But Telemachus was too quick for him ; he hurled
his spear and struck him from behind between the
shoulders, and he fell crashing on the floor. Telema-
chus sprang back, leaving the spear, for he dared not
wait to draw it out. He darted to his father's side.
'Father, we ought to have armor; I will go and get
weapons for us."

"Run and bring them," said Ulysses, "while I have
arrows left; when these are gone I cannot hold the
doorway against them all."

So Telemachus ran to the armory and hurried back
with helmets and shields and spears; and he armed
himself and made the two servants do the same, and
they took their stand beside the king. While the ar-
rows lasted, Ulysses shot, and struck down the wooers
man by man. And then he leant the bow against the
doorpost, and slung the shield about him and put on
the helmet and took two spears in his hand.

Now there was a postern in the hall, close beside
the great doorway and opening on the corridor. Ulys-
ses had put the swineherd to guard it, and now the
boldest of the suitors said to the rest, "Could not

376

THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

some of us force a passage there and raise the cry for
rescue?"

'Little use in that," said Melanthius, "the great
doorway is too close, and one brave man might stop
us all before we reached the court. I have a better
plan. Ulysses and his son have stowed away the
weapons, and I think I know where they are. I will
go and fetch you what you need."

With these words he clambered up through the lights
of the hall and got into the armory, and fetched out
twelve shields and as many spears and helmets, and
brought them to the princes. The heart of Ulysses
misgave him when he saw the armor and the long spears
in their hands; and he felt that the fight would go
hard, and said to Telemachus, "Melanthius or one
of the women has betrayed us."

"Father, it was my fault," said Telemachus; "I
left the door of the armory open, and one of them
must have kept sharper watch than I did. Go, Eu-
mseus, make fast the door, and see whether this is the
doing of Melanthius, as I guess."

While they spoke, Melanthius went again to fetch
more armor, and the swineherd spied him and said,
'There is the villain going to the armory, as we thought;
tell me, shall I kill him, if I can master him, or shall
I bring him here to suffer for his sins ?" 'Telemachus
and I will guard the doorway here," said Ulysses,
"and you and the shepherd shall bind him hand and
foot and leave him in the chamber to wait his doom."

So the two went up to the armory, and stood in wait
on either side of the door; and as Melanthius came out,

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

they leapt upon him and dragged him back by the hair
and flung him on the ground and bound him tightly
to a pillar hand and foot. 'Lie there," said Eumaeus,
"and take your ease: the dawn will not find you sleep-
ing, when it is time for you to rise and drive out your
goats." With that they went back to join Ulysses, and
the four stood together at the threshold, — four men
against a host.

Then Athene came among them in the likeness of
Mentor, and Ulysses knew her and rejoiced. "Men-
tor," he shouted, "help me in my need, for we are
comrades from of old." And the wooers sent up an-
other shout, "Do not listen to him, Mentor; or your
turn will come when he is slain." But Athene taunted
Ulysses and spurred him to the fight: "Have you lost
your strength and courage, Ulysses ? It was not thus
you did battle for Helen in the ten years' war at
Troy. Is it so hard to face the suitors in your own
house and home ? Come, stand by me, and see if Men-
tor forgets old friendship." Yet she left the victory
still uncertain, that she might prove his courage to the
full. She turned herself into a swallow and flew up
into the roof and perched on a blackened rafter over-
head.

Then the wooers took courage, when they saw that
Mentor was gone, and that the four stood alone in the
doorway. And one of them said to the rest, "Let six
of us hurl our spears together at Ulysses. If once he
falls, there will be little trouble with the rest." So they
flung their spears as he bade them; but all of them
missed the mark. Then Ulysses gave the word to his

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THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

men, and they all took steady aim and threw, and
each one killed his man ; and the wooers fell back
into the farther end of the hall, while the four dashed
on together and drew out their spears from the bod-
ies of the slain. Once more the suitors hurled, and
Telemachus and the swineherd were wounded; but
the other spears fell wide. Then at last Athene lifted
her shield of war high overhead, - - the shield that
brings death to men, - - and panic seized the wooers,
and they fled through the hall like a drove of cattle
when the gadfly stings them. But the four leapt on
them like vultures swooping from the clouds; and they
fled left and right through the hall, but there was no
escape.

Onlv Phemius, the minstrel, whom the wooers had

v

forced to sing before them, sprang forward and clasped
the knees of Ulysses and said, 'Have mercy on me,
Ulysses: you would not slay a minstrel, who gladdens
the hearts of Gods and men ? The princes forced me
here against my will."

And Telemachus heard and said to his father, "Do
not hurt him, for he is not to blame: and let us save
the herald too, if he is yet alive, for he took care of me
when I was a child."

Now the herald had hidden himself under a stool
and pulled an ox-hide over him, and when he heard
this he crept out and clasped the knees of Telemachus
and begged that he would plead for him. "Have no
fear," said Ulysses; "my son has saved your life. Go
out, you and the minstrel, and wait in the courtyard,
for I have other work to do within." So the two went

379

ULYSSES IN ITHACA

out into the courtyard, and sat down beside the altar,
looking for their death each moment.

Then Ulysses searched through the hall, to see if
any one was yet lurking alive. But they all lay round
him fallen in the dust and blood, heaped upon each
other like fishes on a sunny beach when the fisher-
man has drawn his net to land. Then he told Tele-
machus to call out the old nurse Eurycleia. She came
and found Ulysses standing among the bodies of the
slain, with his hands and feet all stained with blood,
and she was ready to shout aloud for triumph when
she saw the great work accomplished. But Ulysses
checked her cry and said, 'Keep your joy unspoken,
old nurse; there should be no shout of triumph over
the slain. It is the judgment of Heaven that has repaid
them for the evil deeds they did."

Then he gave orders that the bodies of the dead
should be carried out and that the blood should be
washed away. And when this was done he turned
to Eurycleia and said, "Bring fire and sulphur now and
I will purify the hall. Then bid Penelope meet me
here."

"Yes, my child," said the old nurse, :'I will obey
you. But let me bring you a mantle first : it is not fitting
that you should stand here with only your rags to cover
you." But Ulysses said that she must do his bidding
at once. So she brought sulphur and lit a fire, and Ulys-
ses purified the hall.

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THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

•

D. PENELOPE RECOGNIZES ULYSSES
Translated by George Herbert Palmer

THE old woman, full of glee, went to the upper
chamber to tell her mistress her dear lord was in
the house. Her knees grew strong; her feet outran
themselves. By Penelope's head she paused, and thus
she spoke: —

"Awake, Penelope, dear child, to see with your own
eyes what you have hoped to see this many a day!
Ulysses is here! He has come home at last, and slain
the haughty suitors, the men who vexed his house,
devoured his substance, and oppressed his son."

Then heedful Penelope said to her, " Dear nurse,
the Gods have crazed you. They can befool one who
is very wise, and often they have set the simple in the
paths of prudence. They have confused you; you
were sober-minded heretofore. Why mock me when
my heart is full of sorrow, telling wild tales like these ?
And why arouse me from the sleep that sweetly bound
me and kept my eyelids closed ? I have not slept so
soundly since Ulysses went away to see accursed Ilium,

- name never to be named. Nay then, go down,
back to the hall. If any other of my maids had come
and told me this and waked me out of sleep, I would
soon have sent her off in sorry wise into the hall once
more. This time age serves you well."

Then said to her the good nurse Eurycleia, " Dear
child, I do not mock you. In very truth it is Ulysses;

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

•he is come, as I have said. He is the stranger whom
everybody in the hall has set at naught. Telemachus
knew long ago that he was here, but out of prudence
hid his knowledge of his father till he should have
revenge from those bold men for wicked deeds."

o

So spoke she; and Penelope was glad, and, spring-
ing from her bed, fell on the woman's neck, and let
the tears burst from her eyes ; and, speaking in winged
words, she said, —

"Nay, tell me, then, dear nurse, and tell me truly;
if he is really come as you declare, how was it he laid
hands upon the shameless suitors, being alone, while
they were always here together?"

Then answered her the good nurse Eurycleia, "I
did not see; I did not ask; I only heard the groans
of dying men. In a corner of our protected chamber
we sat and trembled, - - the doors were tightly closed,

- until your son Telemachus called to me from the
hall; for his father bade him call. And there among
the bodies of the slain I found Ulysses standing. All
around, covering the trodden floor, they lay, one on
another. It would have warmed your heart to see
him, like a lion, dabbled with blood and gore. Now
all the bodies are collected at the courtyard gate,
while he is fumigating the fair house by lighting a
great fire. He sent me here to call you. Follow me,
then, that you may come to gladness in your true
hearts together, for sorely have you suffered. Now
the long hope has been at last fulfilled. He has come
back alive to his own hearth, and found you still, you
and his son, within his hall; and upon those who did

382

THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

him wrong, the suitors, on all of them here in his home
he has obtained revenge."

Then heedful Penelope said to her, "Dear nurse,
be not too boastful yet, nor filled with glee. You know
how welcome here the sight of him would be to all,
and most to me and to the son we had. But this
is no true tale you tell. Nay, rather some immortal
slew the lordly suitors, in anger at their galling inso-
lence and wicked deeds; for they respected nobody
on earth, bad man or good, who came among them.
So for their sins they suffered. But Ulysses, far from
Achaia, lost the hope of coming home; nay, he him-
self was lost."

Then answered her the good nurse Eurycleia, " My
child, what word has passed the barrier of your teeth,
to say your husband, who is now beside your hearth,
will never come! Your heart is always doubting.
Come, then, and let me name another sign most sure,
— the scar the boar dealt long ago with his white tusk.
I found it as I washed him, and I would have told you
then; but he laid his hand upon my mouth, and in
his watchful wisdom would not let me speak. But
follow me. I stake my very life; if I deceive you,
slay me by the vilest death."

Then heedful Penelope answered her, " Dear nurse,
't is hard for you to trace the counsels of the everlast-
ing Gods, however wise you are. Nevertheless, let us
go down to meet my son, and see the suitors who are
dead, and him who slew them."

So saying, she went from her chamber to the hall,
and much her heart debated whether aloof to ques-

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

tion her dear husband, or to draw near and kiss bis
face and take his hand. But when she entered, cross-
ing the stone threshold, she sat down opposite Ulys-
ses, in the firelight, beside the farther wall. He sat
by a tall pillar, looking down, waiting to hear if his
stately wife would speak when she should look his
way. But she sat silent long; amazement filled her
heart. Now she would gaze with a long look upon his
face, and now she would not know him for the mean
clothes that he wore. But Telemachus rebuked her,
and spoke to her and said, —

" Mother, hard mother, of ungentle heart, why do
you hold aloof so from my father, and do not sit beside
him, plying him with words and questions ? There is
no other woman of such stubborn spirit to stand off
from the husband who, after many grievous toils,
comes in the twentieth year home to his native land.
Your heart is always harder than a stone!"

Then said to him heedful Penelope, 'My child,
my soul within is dazed with wonder. I cannot speak
to him, nor ask a question, nor look him in the face.
But if this indeed is Ulysses, come at last, we cer-
tainly shall know each other better than others know;
for we have signs which we two understand, - - signs
hidden from the rest."

As she, long tried, spoke thus, royal Ulysses smiled,
and said to Telemachus forthwith in winged words,
'Telemachus, leave your mother in the hall to try
my truth. She soon will know me better. Now, be-
cause I am foul and dressed in sorry clothes, she holds
me in dishonor, and says I am not he. But you and

384

THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

I have yet to plan how all may turn out well. For
whoso kills one man among a tribe, though the man
leaves few champions behind, becomes an exile, quit-
ting kin and country. We have destroyed the pillars
of the state, the very noblest youths of Ithaca. Form,
then, a plan, I pray."

Then answered him discreet Telemachus, "Look
you to that, dear father. Your wisdom is, they say,
the best among mankind. No mortal man can rival
you. Zealously will we follow, and not fail, I think,
in daring, so far as power is ours."

Then wise Ulysses answered him and said, "Then
I will tell you what seems best to me. First wash and
put on tunics, and bid the maids about the house array
themselves. Then let the sacred bard with tuneful
lyre lead us in sportive dancing, that men may say,
hearing us from without, 'It is a wedding,' whether
such men be passers-by or neighboring folk; and so
broad rumor may not reach the town about the suit-
ors' murder till we are gone to our well-wooded farm.
There will we plan as the Olympian shall grant us
wisdom."

So he spoke, and willingly they heeded and obeyed.
For first they washed themselves and put on tunics,
and the women also put on their attire. And then the
noble bard took up his hollow lyre, and in them stirred
desire for merry music and the gallant dance; and
the great house resounded to the tread of lusty men
and gay-girt women. And one who heard the dancing
from without would say, ' Well, well ! some man has
married the long-courted queen. Hard-hearted! For

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ULYSSES IN ITHACA

the husband of her youth she would not guard her
great house to the end, till he should come." So they
would say, but knew not how things were.

Meanwhile within the house Eurynome, the house-
keeper, bathed resolute Ulysses and anointed him
with oil, and on him put a goodly robe and tunic.
Upon his face Athene cast great beauty; she made
him taller than before, and stouter to behold, and
made the curling locks to fall round his head as on
the hyacinth flower. As when a man lays gold on
silver, - - some skillful man whom Vulcan and Pallas
Athene have trained in every art, and he fashions
graceful work, so did she cast a grace upon his head
and shoulders. Forth from the bath he came, in bear-
ing like the Immortals, and once more took the seat
from which he first arose, facing his wife, and spoke
to her these words : -

"Lady, a heart impenetrable beyond the sex of
women the dwellers on Olympus gave to you. There
is no other woman of such stubborn spirit to stand
off from the husband who, after many grievous toils,
comes in the twentieth year home to his native land.
Come, then, good nurse, and make my bed, that I may
lie alone. For certainly of iron is the heart writhin
her breast."

Then said to him heedful Penelope, " Nay, sir, I
am not proud, nor contemptuous of you, nor too much
dazed with wonder. I very well remember what you
were when you went upon your long-oared ship away
from Ithaca. However, Eurycleia, make up his mas-
sive bed outside that stately chamber which he himself

886

THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

once built. Move the massive frame out there, and
throw the bedding on, - - the fleeces, robes, and bright-
hued rugs."

She said this in the hope to prove her husband,
but Ulysses spoke in anger to his faithful wife: "Wo-
man, these are bitter words which you have said!
Who set my bed elsewhere? A hard task that would
be for one, however skilled, - - unless a god should come
and by his will set it with ease upon some other spot;
but among men no living being, even in his prime,
could lightly shift it; for a great token is inwrought
into its curious frame. I built it; no one else. There
grew a thick-leaved olive shrub inside the yard, full-
grown and vigorous, in girth much like a pillar. Round
this I formed my chamber, and I worked till it was done,
building it out of close-set stones, and roofing it over
well. Framed and tight-fitting doors I added to it.
Then I lopped the thick-leaved olive's crest, cutting
the stem high up above the roots, neatly and skillfully
smoothed with my axe the sides, and to the line I
kept all true to shape my post, and with an auger I
bored it all along. Starting with this, I fashioned me
the bed till it was finished, and I inlaid it well with
gold, with silver, and with ivory. On it I stretched a
thong of ox-hide, gay with purple. This is the token
I now tell. I do not know whether the bed still stands
there, wife, or whether somebody has set it elsewhere,
cutting the olive trunk."

As he spoke thus, her knees grew feeble and her
very soul, when she recognized the tokens which Ulys-
ses exactly told. Then bursting into tears, she ran

387

ULYSSES IN ITHACA

straight toward him, threw her arms round Ulysses' neck
and kissed his face, and said, —

"Ulysses, do not scorn me! Ever before, you were
the wisest of mankind. The Gods have sent us sorrow,
and grudged our staying side by side to share the
joys of youth and reach the threshold of old age. But
do not be angry with me now, nor take it ill that then
when 1 first saw you I did not greet you thus; for
the heart within my breast was always trembling.
I feared some man might come and cheat me with
his tale. Many a man makes wicked schemes for gain.
Nay, Argive Helen, the daughter of Zeus, would not
have given herself to love a stranger if she had known
how warrior sons of the Achaians would bring her home
again, back to her native land. And yet it was a god
prompted her deed of shame. Before, she did not
cherish in her heart such sin, such grievous sin, from
which began the woe which stretched to us. But now,
when you have clearly told the tokens of our bed,
which no one else has seen, but only you and I and the
single servant, Actoris, whom my father gave me on
my coming here to keep the door of our closed cham-
ber, - - you make even my ungentle heart believe."

So she spoke, and stirred still more his yearning
after tears; and he began to weep, holding his loved
and faithful wife. As when the welcome land appears
to swimmers, whose sturdy ship Neptune wrecked at
sea, confounded by the winds and solid waters; a few
escape the foaming sea and swim ashore; thick salt
foam crusts their flesh; they climb the welcome land,
and are escaped from danger; so welcome to her gaz-

388

THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

ing eyes appeared her husband. From round his neck
she never let her white arms go. And rosy-fingered
dawn had found them weeping, but a different plan
the goddess formed, clear-eyed Athene. She checked
the long night in its passage, and at the ocean-stream
she stayed the gold-throned dawn, and did not suffer
it to yoke the swift-paced horses which carry light
to men, Lampus and Phaethon, which bear the dawn.
And now to his wife said wise Ulysses, -

"O wife, we have not reached the end of all our
trials yet. Hereafter comes a task immeasurable, long
and severe, which I must needs fulfill; for so the spirit
of Tiresias told me, that day when I descended to the
house of Hades to learn about the journey of my
comrades and myself. But come, my wife, let us to
bed, that there at last we may refresh ourselves with
pleasant sleep."

Then said to him heedful Penelope, ':The bed shall
be prepared whenever your heart wills, now that the
Gods have let you reach your stately house and native
land. But since you speak of this, and God inspires
your heart, come, tell that trial. In time to come, I
know, I shall experience it. To learn about it now,
makes it no worse."

Then wise Ulysses answered her and said, " Lady,
why urge me so insistently to tell ? Well, I will speak
it out; I will not hide it. Yet your heart will feel no
joy; I have no joy myself; for Tiresias bade me go
to many a peopled town, bearing in hand a shapely
oar, till I should reach the men that know no sea and
do not eat food mixed with salt. These, therefore,

389

ULYSSES IN ITHACA

have no knowledge of the red-cheeked ships, nor of
the shapely oars which are the wings of ships. And
this was the sign, he said, easy to be observed. I will
not hide it from you. When another traveler, meeting
me, should say I had a winno wing-fan on my white
shoulder, there in the ground he bade me fix my oar
and make fit offerings to lord Neptune, - - a ram, a
bull, and the sow's mate, a boar, — and, turning
homeward, to offer sacred hecatombs to the immortal
gods who hold the open sky, all in the order due.
And on myself death from the sea shall very gently
come and cut me off, bowed down with hale old age.
Round me shall be a prosperous people. All this, he
said, should be fulfilled."

Then said to him heedful Penelope, "If gods can
make old age the better time, then there is hope there
will be rest from trouble."

So they conversed together. Meanwhile, Eurynome
and the nurse prepared their bed with clothing soft,
under the light of blazing torches. And after they
had spread the comfortable bed, with busy speed, the
old woman departed to her room to rest; while the
chamber-servant, Eurynome, with torch in hand,
walked on before, as they two came to bed. She brought
them to their chamber, and then she went her way.
So they came gladly to their old bed's rites. And now
Telemachus, the neatherd, and the swineherd stayed
their feet from dancing, and bade the women stay,
and all betook themselves to rest throughout the dusky
halls.

So when the pair had joyed in happy love, they

390

THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

joyed in talking too, each one relating; she, the royal
lady, what she endured at home, watching the waste-
ful throng of suitors, who, making excuse of her, slew
many cattle, beeves, and sturdy sheep, and stores of
wine were drained from out the casks; he, high-born
Ulysses, what miseries he brought on other men and
what he bore himself in anguish, - -all he told, and
she was glad to listen. No sleep fell on her eyelids
till he had told her all.

He began with how at first he conquered the Cico-
nians, and came thereafter to the fruitful land of
Lotus-Eaters ; then what the Cyclops did, and how
he took revenge for the brave comrades whom the
Cyclops ate, and never pitied; then how he came to
^Eolus, who gave him hearty welcome and sent him
on his way; but it was fated that he should not reach
his dear land yet, for a sweeping storm bore him once
more along the swarming sea, loudly lamenting; how
he came to Telepylus in Laestrygonia, where the men
destroyed his ships and his mailed comrades, all of
them; Ulysses fled in his black ship alone. He told
of Circe, too, and all her crafty guile; and how on a
ship of many oars he came to the mouldering house
of Hades, there to consult the spirit of Teiresias of
Thebes, and looked on all his comrades, and on the
mother who had borne him and cared for him when lit-
tle; how he had heard the full-voiced Sirens' song; how
he came to the Wandering Rocks, to dire Charybdis and
to Scylla, past whom none goes unharmed; how then
his crew slew the Sun's kine; how Zeus with a blaz-
ing bolt smote his swift ship, - - Zeus, thundering from

391

ULYSSES IN ITHACA

on high, - -and his good comrades perished, utterly,
all, while he escaped their evil doom; how he came to
the island of Ogygia and to the nymph Calypso, who
held him in her hollow grotto, wishing him to be her
husband, cherishing him, and saying she would make
him an immortal, young forever, but she never beguiled
the heart within his breast; then how he came through
many toils to the Phseacians, who honored him exceed-
ingly, as if he were a god, and brought him on his
way to his native land, giving him stores of bronze and
gold and clothing. This was the latest tale he told,
when pleasant sleep fell on him, easing his limbs and
from his heart removing care.

THE WANDERINGS OF THE TROJAN

AENEAS

THE FLIGHT OF AENEAS FROM
THE RUINS OF TROY

By Alfred J . Church

/I .1NEAS, a famous Trojan warrior, fought bravely
1 \ 1 as long as the city stood ; but when it had
fallen] he bethought himself of his father Anchises,
and his wife Creusa, and of his little son Ascanius,
and how he had left them without defense at home.
But as he turned to seek them, the night being now,
by reason of many fires, as clear as the day, he
espied Helen sitting in the temple of Vesta, where
she had sought sanctuary; for she feared the men of
Troy, to whom she had brought ruin and destruction,
and not less her own husband, whom she had deceived.
Then was his wrath kindled, and he spake to himself,
" Shall this evil woman return safe to Sparta ? Shall
she see again her home and her children, with Trojan
women forsooth to be her handmaidens ? Shall Troy
be burnt and King Priam be slain, and she take no
harm ? Not so ; for though there be no glory to be won
from such a deed, yet shall I satisfy myself, taking ven-
geance upon her for my kinsmen and my countrymen."
But while he thought these things in his heart, lo ! there
appeared unto him Venus, his mother, made manifest
as he had never seen her before, as fair and as tall as
the dwellers in heaven behold her. Then Venus spake

395

THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

thus : " What meaneth all this rage, my son ? Hast
thou no care for me? Hast thou forgotten thy father
Anchises, and thy wife, and thy little son ? Of a surety
the fire and the sword had consumed them Ions: since

o

but that I cared for them and saved them. It is not
Helen, no, nor Paris, that hath laid low this great
city of Troy, but the wrath of the Gods. See now, for
I will take away the mist that covers thine eyes; see
how Neptune with his trident is overthrowing the walls
and rooting up the city from its foundations; and how
Juno stands with spear and shield in the Scsean Gate
and calls fresh hosts from the ships; and how Pallas
sits on the height with the storm-cloud about her and
her Gorgon shield; and how Father Jupiter himself
stirs up the enemy against Troy. Fly, therefore, my
son. I will not leave thee till thou shalt reach thy fa-
ther's house." And as she spake she vanished in the
darkness.

Then did JSneas see dreadful forms and gods who
were enemies of Troy, and before his eyes the whole
city seemed to sink down into the fire. Even as a
mountain oak upon the hills on which the woodmen
ply their axes bows its head while all its boughs shake
about it, till at last, as blow comes after blow, with a
mighty groan it falls crashing down from the height,
even so the city seemed to fall. Then did ./Eneas pass
on his way, the goddess leading him, and the flames
gave place to him, and the javelins harmed him not.

But when he was come to his house he bethought
him first of the old man his father; but when he would
have carried him to the hills, Anchises would not, be-

396

FLIGHT OF .ENEAS FROM TROY

ing loath to live in some strange country when Troy
had perished. 'Nay," said he, "fly ye who are strong
and in the flower of your days. But as for me, if the
Gods had willed that I should live, they had saved
this dwelling for me. Enough it is, yea, and more than
enough, that once I have seen this city taken, and lived.
Bid me, then, farewell as though I were dead. Death
will I find for myself. And truly I have long lingered
here a useless stock and hated of the Gods, since Jupi-
ter smote me with the blast of his thunder."

Nor could the old man be moved from his purpose,
though his son and his son's wife, and even the child
Ascanius, besought him with many tears that he should
not make yet heavier the doom that was upon them.
Then was .Eneas minded to go back to the battle and
die. For what hope was left ? ' Thoughtest thou, my
father," he cried, "that I should flee and leave thee
behind ? What evil word is this that has fallen from
thy lips ? If the Gods will have it that nought of Troy
should be left, and thou be minded that thou and thine
should perish with the city, be it so. The way is easy;
soon will Pyrrhus be here: Pyrrhus, red with Priam's
blood; Pyrrhus, who slays the son before the face of
the father, and the father at the altar. Was it for this,
kind Mother Venus, that thou broughtestme safe through
fire and sword, to see the enemy in my home, and my
father and my wife and my son lying slaughtered to-
gether? Comrades, give me my arms, and take me
back to the battle. At the least I will die avenged."

But as he girded on his arms and would have departed
from the house, his wife Creusa caught his feet upon

397

THE WANDERINGS OF

the threshold, staying him, and held out the little As-
canius, saying, " If thou goest to thy death, take wife
and child with thee; but if thou hopest aught from
arms, guard first the house where thou hast father
and wife and child."

And lo! as she spake there befell a mighty marvel,
for before the face of father and mother there was seen
to shine a light on the head of the boy Ascanius, and
to play upon his waving hair and glitter on his temples.
And when they feared to see this thing, and would
have stifled the flame or quenched it with water, the
old man Anchises in great joy raised his eyes to heaven,
and cried aloud, "O Father Jupiter, if prayer move
thee at all, give thine aid and make this omen sure."
And even as he spake the thunder rolled on his left
hand, and a star shot through the skies, leaving a long
trail of light behind, and passed over the house-tops
till it was hidden in the woods of Ida. Then the old
man lifted himself up and did obeisance to the star, and
said, "I delay no more: whithersoever ye lead I will
follow. Gods of my country, save my house and my
grandson. This omen is of you. And now, my son, I
refuse not to go."

Then said ^Eneas, and as he spake the fire came
nearer, and the light was clearer to see, and the heat
more fierce, "Climb, dear father, on my shoulders;
I will bear thee, nor grow weary with the weight.
We will be saved or perish together. The little As-
canius shall go with me, and my wife follow behind,
not over near. And ye, servants of my house, hearken
to me; ye mind how that to one who passes out of the

398

FLIGHT OF .ENEAS FROM TROY

city there is a tomb and a temple of Ceres in a lonely
place, and an ancient cypress-tree hard by. There will
we gather by divers ways. And do thou, my father,
take the holy images in thy hands, for as for me, who
have but newly come from battle, I may not touch
them till I have washed me in the running stream."

And as he spake he put a cloak of lion's skin upon
his shoulders, and the old man sat thereon. Ascanius
also laid hold of his hand, and Creusa followed behind.
So he went in much dread and trembling. For indeed
before sword and spear of the enemy he had not feared,
but now he feared for them that were with him. But
when he was come nigh unto the gates, and the journey
was well-nigh finished, there befell a grievous mis-
chance, for there was heard a sound as of many feet
through the darkness; and the old man cried to him,
"Fly, my son, fly; they are coming. I see the flashing
of shields and swords." But as ^Eneas hasted to go,
Creusa his wife was severed from him. But whether
she wandered from the way or sat down in weariness,
no man may say. Only he saw her no more, nor knew
her to be lost, till all his company being met at the
temple of Ceres, she only was found wanting. Very
grievous did the thing seem to him, nor did he cease
to cry out in his wrath against Gods and men. Also
he bade his comrades have a care of his father and his
son, and of the household gods, and girded him again
with arms, and so passed into the city. And first he went
to the wall and to the gate by which he had come forth,
and then to his house, if haply she had returned thither.
But there indeed the men of Greece were come, and

399

THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

the fire had well-nigh mastered it. And after that he
went to the citadel and to the palace of King Priam.
And lo! in the porch of Juno's temple, Phoenix and
Ulysses were keeping guard over the spoil, even the
treasure of the temples, tables of the Gods, and solid
cups of gold, and raiment, and a long array of them
that had been taken captive, children and women.
But not the less did he seek his wife through all the
streets of the city, yea, and called her aloud by name.
But lo! as he called, the image of her whom he sought
seemed to stand before him, only greater than she
had been while she was yet alive. And the spirit spake,
saying, "Why art thou vainly troubled? These things
have not befallen us against the pleasure of the Gods.
The ruler of Olympus willeth not that Creusa should
bear thee company in thy journey. For thou hast a
long journey to take, and many seas to cross, till thou
come to the Hesperian shore, where Lydian Tiber
flows softly through a good land and a fertile. There
shalt thou have great prosperity, and take to thyself
a wife of royal race. Weep not, then, for Creusa, whom
thou lovest, nor think that I shall be carried away to
be a bond-slave to some Grecian woman. Such fate
befits not a daughter of Dardanus and daughter-in-
law of Venus. The mighty mother of the Gods keepeth
me in this land to serve her. And now, farewell, and
love the young Ascanius, even thy son and mine."

So spake the spirit, and when ^Eneas wept and
would have spoken, vanished out of his sight. Thrice
he would have cast his arms about her neck, and thrice
the image mocked him, being thin as air and fleeting

400

AND AS HE SPAKE HE PUT A CLOAK OF LION'S SKIN UPON HIS
SHOULDERS, AND THE OLD MAN SAT THEREON. ASCANIUS ALSO
LAID HOLD OF HIS HAND, AND CREUSA FOLLOWED BEHIND. SO
HE WENT IN MUCH DREAD AND TREMBLING, FOR INDEED BE-
FORE SWORD AND SPEAR OF THE ENEMY HE HAD NOT FEARED,
BUT NOW HE FEARED MUCH FOR THEM THAT WTERE WITH HIM

FLIGHT OF ^NEAS FROM TROY

as a dream. Then, the night being now spent, he sought
his comrades, and found with much joy and wonder
that a great company of men and women were gath-
ered together, and were willing, all of them, to follow
him whithersoever he went. And now the morning
star rose over Mount Ida, and yEneas, seeing that the
Greeks held the city, and that there was no longer
any hope of succor, went his way to the mountains,
taking with him his father.

^ENEAS'S ADVENTURE WITH THE

HARPIES

By Charles Henry Hanson

[For three days the vessels of ^Eneas were tossed
about by terrible storm winds.]

AT last, on the fourth day, the fury of the storm
abated, and they came in sight of land, - - at
first lofty mountains, and afterwards, as they drew
nearer, rich grassy plains, on which the wanderers
saw herds of cattle and flocks of goats grazing with-
out a keeper. As soon as the storm-beaten vessels
could be brought to the shore, the Trojans hastened
to land, and slaughtered some of the cattle, preparing
a luxurious banquet. But this they were not destined
to enjoy in peace; for scarcely had they stretched
themselves on the couches they had hurriedly prepared
beside the food when there was a sudden rushing of
wings, and three ghastly creatures swooped down upon
the feast, devoured a large part of it, and so defiled
the rest with their loathsome touch that very little was
eatable. These were the Harpies, and by their appear-
ance ^Eneas knew that he and his companions had
arrived at the Strophades, two islands in the Ionian
Sea which for many years had been given up to the
monsters. They were fearful of aspect: down to the

402

AND THE HARPIES

breast they resembled women, with scanty black hair
and glaring red-rimmed eyes, and on their faces ever
a famine-stricken look; but they had wings instead
of arms, and their bodies and lower limbs were those
of huge birds, foul and uncleanly. These hateful crea-
tures had long before been sent by the Gods to plague
Pheneus the Blind, king of Thrace, who had cruelly
treated his sons. Whenever a meal was spread for
the king, the Harpies used to descend and devour it.
At last some brave warriors, who were passing through
Thrace, were persuaded by the promise of rewards
from Pheneus to rid him of the monsters, and drove
them to the far Strophades, where they had ever since
dwelt.

Irritated at the loss of their feast, ^Eneas and his
companions prepared more food, and determined, if
necessary, to defend it with their swords. They ac-
cordingly concealed their weapons in the grass, and
stationed one of their number on the watch, to give
notice with the sound of a trumpet when the Harpies
were approaching. This was done accordingly, and
the obscene creatures, when they again swooped down
to seize on the cooked meats, which they relished
more than any other food, were driven off, though
not without difficulty. But one of them, perching on
a high rock, croaked forth to the astonished mariners
this dismal prophecy : —

'Woe to you, Trojans! Do you dare to make war
upon us after having slain our oxen, and to banish the
innocent Harpies from the kingdom which is theirs
by right ? Fix, then, in your minds these words, which

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THE WANDERINGS OF .ENEAS

the father of Gods and men revealed to Phoebus Apollo,
and Apollo to me. Italy is the land you seek, and Italy
you shall reach at last, after many perils ; but you shall
not build up the walls of your new-founded city until
dire famine and suffering, visiting you because you have
injured us, shall compel you to devour your tables as
well as the food that is upon them."

The gloomy prediction terrified most of the wander-
ers, and they urged .Eneas to endeavor to propitiate
the unclean monsters with invocations and sacrifices.
But Anchises, after imploring Jupiter to ward off the
threatened calamities, commanded that the expedition
should at once quit that melancholy shore. After pass-
ing the rugged cliffs of Ithaca, and uttering maledic-
tions on the land that bred Ulysses, the most cunning
enemy of Troy, the exiles arrived in safety at the har-
bor of Leucadia, where the ships were anchored, and
the travelers landed to rest awhile after the fatigues
of the voyage. Here they celebrated the games of their
country; and .Eneas hung on the door-posts of an
ancient and famous temple of Apollo a suit of armor,
which he had taken from a Greek warrior slain be-
fore Troy, placing above it an inscription, " These arms
.Eneas won from the victorious Greeks."

IN THE LAND OF THE
CYCLOPS

By Charles Henry Hanson

A DAY'S sail over the blue Mediterranean brought
.'Eneas and his followers in sight of the south-
eastern shores of Italy; and as they saw the swelling
hills and grassy plains of the promised land, they broke
into cries of joy. The ships were run into a secure
harbor, and sacrifices offered up for the propitiation
of Minerva and of Juno; after which, mindful of the
injunctions of Helenus to avoid those parts of Italy
which lay nearest to Greece, the adventurers resumed
their voyage. Keeping near the coast, they passed
the Bay of Tarentum and the lofty promontories of
Calabria. Now came in sight the immense bulk of
Etna, lifting its fire-crowned head into the clouds;
and the roaring of the terrible Charybdis could be dis-
tinctly heard. Remembering the warnings of Helenus,
they hastily turned to the left, and avoided the perilous
strait, but sought refuge in a place scarcely less dan-
gerous; for they landed in the country of the Cyclops,
where, only a little while before, Ulysses had been with
his comrades, and had endured great sufferings at the
hands of the giant Polyphemus. The Cyclops, it will
be remembered, were a race of savage shepherds, of
immense statqre, having each but one eye in the middle

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THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

of his forehead. They dwelt in caves, and kept great
flocks and herds. Polyphemus was the largest and
fiercest of them all; and when Ulysses and his com-
panions entered his cave he kept them prisoners, and
devoured several of them. The hero himself and the
rest of his followers had escaped him by making him
drunk with wine they had brought on shore from their
ships, and then putting out his eye with a sharpened
stake, the point of which they had hardened in the
fire. The knowledge of this adventure came to ^Eneas
and his Trojans in a strange fashion. On the morn-
ing after their arrival in the country of the Cyclops,
they were on the shore, when they were surprised to
see a man emerge from the woods, and approach them
with suppliant gestures. His appearance was wild and
emaciated, his beard overgrown, his garments ragged;
but nevertheless it was easy to perceive that he was a
Greek. When he saw that the voyagers wore Trojan
dress and arms, he paused in fear, but the next moment
he hurried toward them with tears and entreaties.

"I conjure you," he cried, " by the stars, by the pow-
ers above, by the light of heaven, ye Trojans, take me
hence. Carry me where you will, do with me what you
will, I shall be content. I confess that I was one who
bore arms against Troy; if you deem that a crime,
put me to death for it. At least I shall have the satis-
faction of dying by the hands of men."

^Eneas and Anchises received the stranger kindly,
assured him of his safety, and asked him who he was,
and how he came to be in that desolate country. He
answered that he was an Ithacan, his name Achserneni-

406

IN THE LAND OF THE CYCLOPS

des, and that he had been one of the companions of
Ulysses in his wanderings. He related the adventures of
the Ithacan hero in the cave of Polyphemus, and told
how he himself, having been by accident left behind
when his comrades escaped, had since led a wretched
existence in the woods, living on wild berries and roots,
and continually in dread lest he should be seen by the
Cyclops. He advised zEneas to lose no time in quitting
the country, lest the ferocious shepherds should discover
and destroy them. Even as Achsemenides spoke, Poly-
phemus was seen accompanying his flock to their pas-
ture. So tall was he of stature that he carried the trunk
of a pine-tree as a staff to guide his footsteps. Reaching
the sea he stepped into it, and bent down to bathe the
wound inflicted by Ulysses. The Trojans hastened to cut
their cables, and rowed out to sea. The giant heard
the sound of their oars, and turned to follow them;
but in his blindness he dared not follow far, and there-
fore he called on his brethren with a cry so loud that
the very sea was shaken in its depths. Forthwith the
huge Cyclops came trooping to the shore, like a wood
of lofty trees endued with life and motion; but by this
time the Trojan vessels had got beyond their reach.

^3NEAS AND QUEEN DIDO

By Alfred J . Church

[^Eneas was driven by a storm upon the shores of
Carthage.]

NOW it came to pass on the next day that ^Eneas,
having first hidden his ships in a bay that was
well covered with trees, went forth to spy out the new
land whither he was come, and Achates only went
with him. And vEneas had in each hand a broad-
pointed spear. And as he went there met him in the
middle of the wood his mother, but habited as a Spar-
tan virgin, for she had hung a bow from her shoulders
after the fashion of a huntress, and her hair was loose,
and her tunic short to the knees, and her garments
gathered in a knot upon her breast. Then first the
false huntress spake : " If perchance ye have seen one
of my sisters wandering hereabouts, make known to me
the place. She is girded with a quiver, and is clothed
with the skin of a spotted lynx, or, maybe, she hunts
a wild boar with horn and hound."

To whom ^Eneas, "I have not seen nor heard sister
of thine, O virgin - - for what shall I call thee ? for,
of a surety, neither is thy look as of a mortal woman,
nor yet thy voice. A goddess certainly thou art, sister
of Phcebus, or, haply, one of the nymphs. But who-
soever thou art, look favorably upon us and help us.

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.ENEAS AND QUEEN DIDO

Tell us in what land we be, for the winds have driven
us hither, and we know not aught of place or people."
And Venus said, "Nay, stranger, I am not such as
ye think. We virgins of Tyre are wont to carry a quiver
and to wear a buskin of purple. For indeed it is a
Tyrian city that is hard by, though the land be Libya.
And of this city Dido is queen, having come hither
from Tyre, flying from the wrong-doing of her brother.
And indeed the story of the thing is long, but I will
recount the chief matter thereof to thee. The hus-
band of this Dido was one Sichseus, richest among all
the men of Phoenicia, and greatly beloved of his wife,
whom he married from a virgin. Now the brother
of this Sichaeus was Pygmalion, the king of the coun-
try, and he exceeded all men in wickedness. And
when there arose a quarrel between them, the king,
being exceedingly mad after gold, took him unaware,
even as he did sacrifice at the altar, and slew him.
And the king hid the matter many days from Dido,
and cheated her with false hopes. But at the last there
came to her in her dreams the likeness of the dead man,
baring his wounds and showing the wickedness which
had been done. Also he bade her make haste and fly
from that land, and, that she might do this the more
easily, told her of great treasure, gold and silver, that
was hidden in the earth. And Dido, being much moved
by these things, made ready for flight; also she sought
for companions, and there came together to her as
many as hated the king or feared him. Then did they
seize ships that chanced to be ready and laded them
with gold, even the treasure of King Pygmalion, and

409

THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

so fled across the sea. And in all this was a woman the
leader. Then came they to this place, where thou seest
the walls and citadel of Carthage, and bought so much
land as they could cover with a bull's hide. And now
do ye answer me this, Whence come ye, and whither
do ye go ? "

Then answered zEneas, "Should I tell the whole
story of our wanderings, and thou have leisure to hear,
evening would come ere I could make an end. We
are men of Troy, who, having journeyed over many
seas, have now been driven by storms to this shore of
Libya. And as for me, men call me Prince ^Eneas. The
land I seek is Italy, and my race is from Jupiter him-
self. With twenty ships did I set sail, going in the way
whereon the Gods sent me. And of these scarce seven
are left. And now, seeing that Europe and Asia en-
dure me not, I wander over the desert places of Africa."

But Venus suffered him not to speak more, but said,
'Whoever thou a*rt, stranger, that art come to this
Tyrian city, thou art surely beloved by the Gods. And
now go, show thyself to the queen. And as for thy ships
and thy companions, I tell thee that they are safe in
the haven, if I have not learnt augury in vain. See those
twenty swans, how joyously they fly! And now there
cometh an eagle swooping down from the sky, putting
them to confusion, but now again they move in due
order, and some are settling on the earth and some are
preparing to settle. Even so doth it fare with thy ships,
for either are they already in the haven or enter there-
into with sails full set."

And as she spoke she turned away, and there shone

410

AENEAS AND QUEEN DIDO

a rosy light from her neck, also there came from her
hair a sweet savor as of ambrosia, and her garments
grew under her feet; and Aneas perceived that she
was his mother, and cried aloud, -

" O my mother, why dost thou mock me so often
with false shows, nor sufferest me to join my hand
unto thy hand, and to speak with thee face to face?"

And he went towards the walls of the city. But
Venus covered him and his companions with a mist,
that no man might see them, or hinder them, or inquire
of their business, and then departed to Paphos, where
was her temple and also many altars of incense. Then
the men hastened on their way, and mounting a hill
which hung over the city, marveled to behold it, for
indeed it was very great and noble, with mighty gates
and streets, and a multitude that walked therein. For
some built the walls and the citadel, rolling great stones
with their hands, and others marked out places for
houses. Also they chose those that should give judg-
ment and bear rule in the city. Some, too, digged out
harbors, and others laid the foundations of a theatre,
and cut out great pillars of stone. Like to bees they
were, when, the summer being newly come, the young
swarms go forth, or when they labor filling the cells
with honey, and some receive the burdens of those
that return from the fields, and others keep off the
drones from the hive. Even so labored the men of
Tyre. And when JEneas beheld them he cried, " Happy
ye, who even now have a city to dwell in!" And be-
ing yet hidden by the mist, he went in at the gate and
mingled with the men, being seen of none.

411

THE WANDERINGS OF .ENEAS

Now in the midst of the city was a wood, very thick
with trees, and here the men of Carthage, first come
to the land from their voyage, had digged out of the
ground that which Juno had said should be a sign to
them, even a horse's head; for that, finding this, their
city would be mighty in war, and full of riches. Here,
then, Dido was building a temple to Juno, very splen-
did, with threshold of bronze, and many steps there-
unto; of bronze also were the door-posts and the
gates. And here befell a thing which gave much com-
fort and courage to ^Eneas; for as he stood and re-
garded the place, waiting also for the queen, he saw
set forth in order upon the walls the battles that had
been fought at Troy, the sons of Atreus also, and
King Priam, and fierce Achilles. Then said he, not
without tears, " Is there any land, O Achates, that
is not filled with our sorrows ? Seest thou Priam ?
Yet withal there is a reward for virtue here also, and
tears and pity for the troubles of men. Fear not, there-
fore. Surely the fame of these things shall profit us."

Then he looked, satisfying his soul with the paint-
ings on the walls. For there was the city of Troy. In
this part of the field the Greeks fled and the youth of
Troy pursued them, and in that the men of Troy fled,
and Achilles followed hard upon them in his chariot.
Also he saw the white tents of Rhesus, king of Thrace,
whom the fierce Diomed slew in his sleep, when he was
newly come to Troy, and drave his horses to the camp
before they ate of the grass of the fields of Troy or
drank the waters of Xanthus. There also Troilus was
pictured, ill matched in battle with Achilles. His horses

412

AENEAS AND QUEEN DIDO

bare him along; but he lay on his back in the chariot,
yet holding the reins, and his neck and head were
dragged upon the earth, and the spear-point made a
trail in the dust. And in another place the women of
Troy went suppliant-wise to the temple of Minerva,
bearing a great and beautiful robe, sad and beating
their breasts, and with hair unbound; but the goddess
regarded them not. Also Achilles dragged the body
of Hector three times round the walls of Troy, and
was selling it for gold. And vEneas groaned when he
saw the man whom he loved, and the old man Priam
reaching out helpless hands. Also he knew himself,
fighting in the midst of the Grecian chiefs; black
Memnon also he knew, and the hosts of the East;
and Penthesilea leading the army of the Amazons
with shields shaped as the moon. Fierce she was to
see, with one breast bared for battle, and a golden girdle
beneath it, a damsel daring to fight with men.

But while ^Eneas marveled to see these things, lo!
there came, with a great throng of youths behind her,
Dido, most beautiful of women, fair as Diana, when,
on the banks of Eurotas or on the hills of Cynthus,
she leads the dance with a thousand nymphs of the
mountains about her. On her shoulder she bears a
quiver, and overtops them all, and her mother, even
Latona, silently rejoices to behold her. So fair and
seemly to see was Dido as she bare herself right nobly
in the midst, being busy in the work of her kingdom.
Then she sat herself down on a lofty throne in the gate
of the temple, with many armed men about her. And
she did justice between man and man ; also she divided

413

THE WANDERINGS OF .ENEAS

the work of the city, sharing it equally or parting it

by lot.

Then of a sudden J£neas heard a great clamor,
and saw a company of men come quickly to the place,
among whom were Antheus and Sergestus and Cloan-
thus, and others of the men of Troy that had been
parted from him in the storm. Right glad was he to
behold them, yet was not without fear; and though
he would fain have come forth and caught them by the
hand, yet did he tarry, waiting to hear how the men
had fared, where they had left their ships, and where-
fore they were come.

Then Ilioneus, leave being now given that he should
speak, thus began: "O Queen, whom Jupiter permits
to build a new city in these lands, we men of Troy,
whom the winds have carried over many seas, pray
thee that thou save our ships from fire, and spare a
people that serveth the Gods. For, indeed, we are not
come to waste the dwellings of this land, or to carry
off spoils to our ships. For, of a truth, they who have
suffered so much think not of such deeds. There is
a land which the Greeks call Hesperia, but the people
themselves Italy, after the name of their chief; an an-
cient land, mighty in arms and fertile of corn. Hither
were we journeying, when a storm arising scattered
our ships, and only these few that thou seest escaped
to the land. And can there be nation so savage that
it receiveth not shipwrecked men on its shore, but
beareth arms against them, and forbiddeth them to
land ? Nay, but if ye care not for men, yet regard the
Gods, who forget neither them that do righteously

414

.ENEAS AND QUEEN DIDO

nor them that transgress. We had a king, ^Eneas,
than whom there lived not a man more dutiful to
Gods and men, and greater in war. If indeed he be
yet alive, then we fear not at all. For of a truth it will
not repent thee to have helped us. And if not, other
friends have we, as Acestes of Sicily. Grant us, there-
fore, to shelter our ships from the wind; also to fit them
with fresh timber from the woods, and to make ready
oars for rowing, so that, finding again our king and our
companions, we may gain the land of Italy. But if he
be dead, and Ascanius his son lost also, then there is
a dwelling ready for us in the land of Sicily, with Aces-
tes, who is our friend."

Then Dido, her eyes bent on the ground, thus spake :
''Fear not, men of Troy. If we have seemed to deal
harshly with you, pardon us, seeing that, being newly
settled in this land, we must keep watch and ward over
our coasts. But as for the men of Troy, and their deeds
in arms, who knows them not ? Think not that we in
Carthage are so dull of heart, or dwell so remote from
man, that we are ignorant of these things. Whether,
therefore, ye will journey to Italy or rather return to
Sicily and King Acestes, know that I will give you all
help, and protect you; or, if ye will, settle in this land
of ours. Yours is this city which I am building. I will
make no difference between man of Troy and man of
Tyre. Would that your king also were here! Surely
I will send those that shall seek him in all parts of
Libya, lest haply he should be gone astray in any forest
or strange city of the land."

And when ^Eneas and Achates heard these things

415

THE WANDERINGS OF

they were glad, and would have come forth from the
cloud, and Achates said, "What thinkest thou ? Lo,
thy comrades are safe, saving him whom we saw with
our own eyes drowned in the waves; and all other
things are according as thy mother said."

And even as he spake the cloud parted from about
them, and ^Eneas stood forth, very bright to behold,
with face and breast as of a god, for his mother had
given to him hair beautiful to see, and cast about
him the purple light of youth, even as a workman sets
ivory in some fair ornament, or compasseth about
silver or marble of Paros with gold. Then spake he
to the queen : " Lo ! I am he whom ye seek, even ^Eneas
of Troy, scarcely saved from the waters of the sea.
And as for thee, O Queen, seeing that thou only hast
been found to pity the unspeakable sorrows of Troy,
and biddest us, though we be but poor exiles and lack-
ing all things, to share thy city and thy home, may
the Gods do so to thee as thou deservest. And, of a truth,
so long as the rivers run to the seas, and the shadows
fall on the hollows of the hills, so long will thy name
and thy glory survive, whatever be the land to which
the Gods shall bring me." Then gave he his right hand
to Ilioneus, and his left hand to Sergestus, and greeted
them with great joy.

And Dido, hearing these things, was silent for a
while, but at the last she spake. "What ill fortune
brings thee into perils so great ? what power drave thee
to these savage shores ? Well do I mind me how in
days gone by there came to Sidon one Teucer, who, hav-
ing been banished from his country, sought help from

416

.ENEAS AND QUEEN DIDO

Belus that he might find a kingdom for himself. And
it chanced that in those days Belus, my father, had
newly conquered the land of Cyprus. From that day
did I know the tale of Troy, and thy name also, and
the chiefs of Greece. Also I remember that Teucer
spake honorably of the men of Troy, saying that he
was himself sprung of the old Teucrian stock. Come
ye, therefore to my palace. I too have wandered far,
even as you, and so have come to this land, and hav-
ing suffered much, have learnt to succor them that
suffer."

So saying she led ^Eneas into her palace; also she
sent to his companions in the ships great store of pro-
visions, even twenty oxen and a hundred bristly swine
and a hundred ewe sheep with their lambs. But in
the palace a great feast was set forth, couches covered
with broidered purple and silver vessels without end,
and cups of gold, whereon were embossed the mighty
deeds of the men of old time.

And in the mean time ^Eneas sent Achates in haste
to the ships, that he might fetch Ascanius to the feast.
Also he bade that the boy should bring with him gifts
of such things as they had saved from the ruins of Troy,
— a mantle stiff with broidery of gold and a veil bor-
dered with yellow acanthus, which the fair Helen had
taken with her, flying from her home; but Leda, her
mother, had given them to Helen; a sceptre likewise
which Ilione, first-born of the daughters of Priam, had
carried, and a necklace of pearls and a double crown
of jewels and gold.

But Venus was troubled in heart, fearing evil to her

417

THE WANDERINGS OF yENEAS

son should the men of Tyre be treacherous, after their
wont, and Juno remember her wrath. Wherefore,
taking counsel with herself, she called to the winged
boy, even Love, that was her son, and spake: 'My
son, who art all my power and strength, who laughest
at the thunders of Jupiter, thou knowest how Juno,
being exceedingly wroth against thy brother /Eneas,
causeth him to wander out of the way over all lands.
This day Dido hath him in her palace, and speaketh
him fair; but I fear me much how these things may
end. Wherefore hear thou that which I purpose. Thy
brother hath even now sent for the boy Ascanius, that
he may come to the palace, bringing with him gifts
of such things as they saved from the ruins of Troy.
Him will I cause to fall into a deep sleep and hide in
Cythera or Idalium, and do thou for one night take
upon thee his likeness. And when Queen Dido at
the feast shall hold thee in her lap, and kiss and em-
brace thee, do thou breathe by stealth thy fire into her
heart."

Then did Love as his mother bade him, and put off
his wings, and took upon him the shape -of Ascanius,
but on the boy Venus caused there to fall a deep sleep,
and carried him to the woods of Idalium, and lapped
him in sweet-smelling flowers. And in his stead Love
carried the gifts to the queen. And when he was come
they sat down to the feast, the queen being in the midst
under a canopy. /Eneas also and the men of Troy lay
on coverlets of purple, to whom serving-men brought
water and bread in baskets and napkins; and within
fifty handmaids were ready to replenish the store of

418

AND QUEEN DIDO

victual and to fan the fire ; and a hundred others,
with pages as many, loaded the tables with dishes
and drinking-cups. Many men of Tyre also were bidden
to the feast. Much they marveled at the gifts of ^Eneas,
and much at the false Ascanius. Dido also could not
satisfy herself with looking on him, nor knew what
trouble he was preparing for her in the time to come.
And he, having first embraced the father who was not
his father, and clung about his neck, addressed him-
self to Queen Dido, and she ever followed him with
her eyes, and sometimes would hold him on her lap.
And still he worked upon her that she should forget
the dead Sichaeus and conceive a new love in her heart.
But when they first paused from the feast, lo! men
set great bowls upon the table and filled them to the
brim with wine. Then did the queen call for a great
vessel of gold, with many jewels upon it, from which
Belus, and all the kings from Belus, had drunk, and
called for wine, and having filled it she cried, " O Jupi-
ter, whom they call the god of hosts and guests, cause
that this be a day of joy for the men of Troy and for
them of Tyre, and that our children remember it for-
ever. Also Bacchus, giver of joy, be present, and kindly
Juno." And when she had touched the wine with her
lips, she handed the great cup to Prince Bitias, who
drank thereout a might draught, and the other princes
after him. Then the minstrel lopas, whom Altas him-
self had taught, sang to the harp, of the moon, how
she goes on her way, and of the sun, how his light is
darkened. He sang also of men, and of the beasts of
the field, whence they come; and of the stars, Arctu-

419

THE WANDERINGS OF .ENEAS

rus, and the Greater Bear and the Less, and the Hyades ;
and of the winter sun, why he hastens to dip himself
in the ocean; and of the winter nights, why they tarry
so long. The queen also talked much of the story of
Troy, of Priam, and of Hector, asking many things,
as of the arms of Memnon, and of the horses of Diomed,
and of Achilles, how great he was. And at last she said
to ^Eneas, " Tell us now thy story, how Troy was taken,
and thy wanderings over land and sea." And ^Eneas
made answer, "Nay, O Queen, but thou biddest me
renew a sorrow unspeakable. Yet, if thou art minded
to hear these things, hearken." And he told her all
that had befallen him, even to the day when his father
Anchises died.

Much was Queen Dido moved by the story, and
much did she marvel at him that told it, and scarce
could sleep for thinking of him. And the next day she
spake to Anna, her sister, "O my sister, I have been
troubled this night with ill dreams, and my heart is
disquieted within me. What a man is this stranger
that hath come to our shores! How noble of mien!
How bold in war! Sure I am that he is of the sons of
the Gods. What fortunes have been his ! Of what wars
he told us! Surely were I not steadfastly purposed
that I would not yoke me again in marriage, this were
the man to whom I might yield. Only he - -for I will
tell thee the truth, my sister - - only he, since the day
when Sichseus died by our brother's hand, hath moved
my heart. But may the earth swallow me up, or the
almighty Father strike me with lightning, ere I stoop
to such baseness. The husband of my youth hath

420

AND QUEEN DIDO

carried with him my love, and he shall keep it in his
grave."

So she spake, with many tears. And her sister made
answer, "Why wilt thou waste thy youth in sorrow,
without child or husband? Thinkest thou that there
is care or remembrance of such things in the grave?
No suitors indeed have pleased thee here or in Tyre,
but wilt thou also contend with a love that is after
thine own heart? Think too of the nations among
whom thou dwellest, how fierce they are, and of thy
brother at Tyre, what he threatens against thee. Surely
it was by the will of the Gods, and of Juno chiefly, that
the ships of Troy came hither. And this city, which
thou buildest, to what greatness will it grow if only
thou wilt make for thyself such alliance! How great
will be the glory of Carthage if the strength of Troy
be joined unto her ! Only do thou pray to the Gods and
offer sacrifices; and, for the present, seeing that the
time of sailing is now past, make excuse that these
strangers tarry with thee awhile."

Thus did Anna comfort her sister and encourage
her. And first the two offered sacrifice to the Gods,
chiefly to Juno, who careth for the bond of marriage.
Also, examining the entrails of slain beasts, they sought
to learn the things that should happen thereafter.
And ever Dido would company with ^Eneas, leading
him about the walls of the city which she builded.
And often she would begin to speak and stay in the
midst of her words. And when even was come, she
would hear again and again at the banquet the tale
of Troy, and while others slept would watch, and

421

THE WANDERINGS OF .ENEAS

while he was far away would seem to see him and to
hear him. Ascanius, too, she would embrace for love
of his father, if so she might cheat her own heart.
But the work of the city was stayed meanwhile; nor
did the towers rise in their places, nor the youth prac-
tice themselves in arms.

Then Juno, seeing how it fared with the queen,
spake to Venus: "Are ye satisfied with your victory,
thou and thy son, that ye have vanquished, the two
of you, one woman ? Well I knew that thou fearedst
lest this Carthage should harm thy favorite. But why
should there be war between us? Thou hast what
thou seekest. Let us make alliance. Let Dido obey
a Phrygian husband, and bring the men of Tyre as
her dowry."

But Venus knew that she spake with ill intent,
to the end that the men of Troy should not reign in
the land of Italy. Nevertheless she dissembled with
her tongue, and spake: "Who would not rather have
peace with thee than war ? Only I doubt whether this
thing shall be to the pleasure of Jupiter. This thou
must learn, seeing that thou art his wife, and where
thou leadest I will follow."

So the two, taking counsel together, ordered things
in this wise. The next day a great hunting was pre-
pared. For as soon as ever the sun was risen upon the
earth, the youth of the city assembled, with nets and
hunting spears and dogs that ran by scent. And the
princes of Carthage waited for the queen at the palace
door, where her horse stood champing the bit, with
trappings of purple and gold. And after a while she

422

.ENEAS AND QUEEN DIDO

came forth, with many following her. And she had
upon her a Sidonian mantle, with a border wrought
with divers colors; of gold was her quiver, and of gold
the knot of her hair, and of gold the clasp to her man-
tle. ^Eneas likewise came forth, beautiful as is Apollo
when he leaveth Lydia and the stream of Xanthus,
coming to Delos, and hath about his hair a wreath
of bay-leaves and a circlet of gold. So fair was ./Eneas
to see. And when the hunters came to the hills they
found great store of goats and stags, which they chased.
And of all the company Ascanius was the foremost,
thinking scorn of such hunting, and wishing that a
wild boar or a lion out of the hills would come forth
to be his prey.

And now befell a great storm, with much thunder
and hail, from which the hunters sought shelter. But
^Eneas and the queen, being left of all their company,
came together to the same cave. And there they plighted
their troth one to the other. Nor did the queen after
that make secret of her love, but called ^Eneas her hus-
band.

I

Straightway went Rumor and told these things
through the cities of Libya. Now Rumor, men say, is
the youngest daughter of Earth, a marvelous creature,
moving very swiftly with feet and wings, and having
many feathers upon her, and under every feather an
eye and a tongue and a mouth and an ear. In the night
she flieth between heaven and earth, and sleepeth not;
and in the day she sitteth on some housetop or lofty
tower, or spreadeth fear over mighty cities; and she
loveth that which is false even as she loveth that which

423

THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

is true. So now she went telling through Libya how
^Eneas of Troy was come, and Dido was wedded to
him, and how they lived careless and at ease, and
thinking not of the work to which they were called.

And first of all she went to Prince larbas, who him-
self had sought Dido in marriage. And larbas was
very wroth when he heard it, and, coming to the temple
of Jupiter, spread his grief before the Gods, how that
he had given a place on his coasts to this Dido, and
would have taken her to wife, but that she had married
a stranger from Phrygia, another Paris, whose dress
and adornments were of a woman rather than of a
man.

And Jupiter saw that this was so, and he said to
Mercury, who was his messenger, " Go speak to ^Eneas
these words: 'Thus saith the king of Gods and men.
Is this what thy mother, promised of thee, twice saving
thee from the spear of the Greeks ? Art thou he that
shall rule Italy and its mighty men of war, and spread
thy dominion to the ends of the world ? If thou thyself
forgettest these things, dost thou grudge to thy son
the citadels of Rome? What doest thou here? Why
lookest thou not to Italy ? Depart and tarry not.' :

Then Mercury fitted the winged sandals to his feet,
and took the wand with which he driveth the spirits
of the dead, and came right soon to Mount Atlas,
which standeth bearing the heaven on his head, and
having always clouds about his top, and snow upon
his shoulders, and a beard that is stiff with ice. There
Mercury stood awhile; then, as a bird which seeks
its prey in the sea, shot headlong down, and came to

424

.ENEAS AND QUEEN DIDO

^Eneas where he stood, with a yellow jasper in his sword-
hilt, and a cloak of purple shot with gold about his
shoulders, and spake: "Buildest thou Carthage, for-
getting thine own work? The Almighty Father saith
to thee, ' What meanest thou ? Why tarriest thou here ?
If thou carest not for thyself, yet think of thy son, and
that the Fates have given to him Italy and Rome."

And ^Eneas saw him no more. And he stood stricken
with fear and doubt. Fain would he obey the voice,
and go as the Gods commanded. But how should he
tell this purpose to the queen ? But at the last it seemed
good to him to call certain of the chiefs, as Mnestheus,
and Sergestus, and Antheus, and bid them make ready
the ships in silence, and gather together the people,
but dissemble the cause, and he himself would watch
a fitting time to speak and unfold the matter to the
queen.

Yet was not Dido deceived, for love is keen of sight.
Rumor also told her that they made ready the ships
for sailing. Then, flying through the city, even as one
on whom has come the frenzy of Bacchus flies by night
over Mount Cithaeron, she came upon ^Eneas, and
spake: "Thoughtest thou to hide thy crime, and to
depart in silence from this land ? Carest thou not for
her whom thou leavest to die ? And hast thou no fear
of winter storms that vex the sea ? By all that I have
done for thee and given thee, if there be yet any place
for repentance, repent thee of this purpose. For thy
sake I suffer the wrath of the princes of Libya and
of my own people; and if thou leavest me, for what
should I live ? — till my brother overthrow my city,

425

THE WANDERINGS OF

or larbas carry me away captive ? If but I had a little
/Eneas to play in my halls I should not seem so alto-
gether desolate."

But ^Eneas, fearing the words of Jupiter, stood with
eyes that relented not. At the last he spake: "I deny
not, O Queen, the benefits that thou hast done unto
me, nor ever, while I live, shall I forget Dido. I sought
not to fly by stealth; yet did I never promise that I
would abide in this place. Could I have chosen accord-
ing to my will I had built again the city of Troy where
it stood; but the Gods command that I should seek
Italy. Thou hast thy Carthage; why dost thou grudge
Italy to us ? Nor may I tarry. Night after night have
I seen my father Anchises warning me in dreams.
Also even now the messenger of Jupiter came to me —
with these ears I heard him - - and bade me depart."

Then, in great wrath, with eyes askance, did Dido
break forth upon him: "Surely no goddess was thy
mother, nor art thou come of the race of Dardanus.
The rocks of Caucasus brought thee forth, and an
Hyrcanian tigress gave thee suck. For why should
I dissemble ? Was he moved at all my tears ? Did he
pity my love ? Nay, the very Gods are against me.
This man I took to myself when he was shipwrecked
and ready to perish. I brought back his ships, his com-
panions from destruction. And now forsooth comes
the messenger of Jupiter with dreadful commands
from the Gods. As for thee, I keep thee not. Go,
seek thy Italy across the seas: only, if there is any
vengeance in heaven, thou wilt pay the penalty for
this wrong, being wrecked on some rock in their midst.

426

.ENEAS AND QUEEN DIDO

Then wilt thou call on Dido in vain. Aye, and where-
ever thou shalt go I will haunt thee, and rejoice in
the dwellings below to hear thy doom."

Then she turned, and hasted to go into the house.
But her spirit left her, so that her maidens bare her
to her chamber and laid her on her bed.

Then .Eneas, though indeed he was much troubled in
heart, and would fain have comforted the queen, was
obedient to the heavenly word, and departed to his
ships. And the men of Troy busied themselves in mak-
ing them ready for the voyage. Even as the ants spoil
a great heap of corn and store it in their dwellings
against winter, moving in a black line across the field,
and some carry the great grains, and some chide those
that linger, even so did the Trojans swarm along the
ways and labor at the work.

But when Dido saw it she called to Anna her sister
and said, " Seest thou how they hasten the work along
the shore ? Even now the sails are ready for the winds,
and the sailors have wreathed the ships with garlands,
as if for departure. Go thou — the deceiver always
trusted thee, and thou knowest how best to move him
— go and entreat him. I harmed not him nor his people;
let him then grant me this only. Let him wait for a
fairer time for his journey. I ask not that he give up
his purpose; only that he grant me a short breathing
space, till I may learn how to bear this sorrow."

And Anna hearkened to her sister, and took the
message to .Eneas, yet profited nothing, for the Gods
shut his ears that he should not hear. Even as the oak
stands firm when the north wind would root it up from

427

THE WANDERINGS OF .ENEAS

the earth, --its leaves are scattered all around, yet
doth it remain firm, for its roots go down to the regions
below, even as far as its branches reach to heaven, —
so stood ^Eneas firm, and, though he wept many tears,
changed not his purpose.

Then did Dido grow weary of her life. For when
she did sacrifice, the pure water would grow black and
the wine be changed to blood. Also from the shrine of
her husband, which was in the midst of her palace,
was heard a voice calling her, and the owl cried aloud
from the house-top. And in her dreams the cruel
/Eneas seemed to drive her before him; or she seemed
to be going a long way with none to bear her company,
and be seeking her own people in a land that was
desert. Therefore, hiding the thing that was in her
heart, she spake to her sister, saying, " I have found a
way, my sister, that shall bring him back to me or set
me free from him. Near the shore of the Great Sea,
where the ^Ethiopians dwell, is a priestess, who guards
the temple of the. daughters of Hesperus, being wont
to feed the dragons that kept the apples of gold. She
is able by her charms to loose the heart from care or
to bind it, and to stay rivers also, and to turn the courses
of the stars, and to call up the spirits of the dead. Do
thou, therefore - - for this is what the priestess com-
mands - - build a pile in the open court, and put thereon
the sword which he left hanging in our chamber, and
the garments he wore, and the couch on which he lay,
even all that was his, so that they may perish together."

And when these things were done — for Anna knew
not of her purpose - - and also an image of ^Eneas was

428

AND QUEEN DIDO

laid upon the pile, the priestess, with her hair unbound,
called upon all the gods that dwell below, sprinkling
thereon water that was drawn, she said, from the lake
of Avernus, and scattering evil herbs that had been
cut at the full moon with a sickle of bronze. Dido
also, with one foot bare and her garments loosened,
threw meal upon the fire and called upon the gods,
if haply there be any, that look upon those that love
and suffer wrong.

In the mean time ^Eneas lay asleep in the hind part
of his ship, when there appeared to him in a dream
the god Mercury, even as he had seen him when he
brought the commandment of Jupiter. And Mercury
spake, saying, " Son of Venus, canst thou sleep ? seest
thou not what perils surround thee, nor hearest how
the favorable west wind calls ? The queen purposes
evil against thee. If thou lingerest till the morning
come thou wilt see the shore covered with them that
wish thee harm. Fly, then, and tarry not; for a wo-
man is ever of many minds."

Then did -'Eneas in great fear start from his sleep,
and call his companions, saying, 'Wake, and sit on
the benches, and loose the sails. 'T is a god thus bids
us fly." And even as he spake he cut the cable with
his sword. And all hasted to follow him, and sped over
the sea.

And now it was morning, and Queen Dido, from her
watch-tower, saw the ships upon the sea. Then she
smote upon her breast and tore her hair, and cried,
" Shall this stranger mock us thus ? Hasten to follow
him. Bring down the ships from the docks, make

429

THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

ready sword and fire. And this was the man who bare
upon his shoulders his aged father. Why did I not tear
him to pieces, and slay his companions with the sword,
and serve up the young Ascanius at his meal ? And if
I had perished, what then ? for I die to-day. O Sun,
that regardest all the earth, and Juno, that carest for
marriage bonds, and Hecate, Queen of the dead, and
ye Furies that take vengeance on evil-doers, hear me.
If it be ordered that he reach that land, yet grant that
he suffer many things from his enemies, and be driven
from his city, and beg for help from strangers, and see
his people cruelly slain with the sword; and, when he
shall have made peace on ill conditions, that he enjoy
not long his kingdoms, but die before his day, and lie
unburied on the plain. And ye, men of Tyre, hate his
children and his people forever. Let there be no love
or peace between you. And may some avenger arise
from my grave who shall persecute the race of Dar-
danus with fire and sword. So shall there be war for-
ever between him and me."

Then she spake to old Barce, who had been nurse
to her husband Sichseus, "Bid my sister bathe her-
self in water, and bring with her beasts for sacrifice.
And do thou also put a garland about thy head, for
I am minded to finish this sacrifice which I have begun,
and to burn the image of the man of Troy."

And when the old woman made haste to do her
bidding, Queen Dido ran to the court where the pile
was made for the burning, and mounted on the pile,
and drew the sword of ^Eneas from the scabbard.
Then did she throw herself upon the bed, and cry,

430

.ENEAS AND QUEEN DIDO

" Now do I yield up my life. I have finished my course.
I have built a mighty city. I have avenged my hus-
band on him that slew him. Happy had I been, yea,
too happy! had the ships of Troy never come to this
land." Then she kissed the bed and cried, "Shall I
die unavenged ? Nevertheless let me die. The man
of Troy shall see this fire from the sea whereon he
journeys, and carry with him an augury of death."

And when her maidens looked, lo! she had fallen
upon the sword, and the blood was upon her hands.
And a great cry went up through the palace, exceeding
loud and bitter, even as if the enemy had taken Car-
thage or ancient Tyre, and the fire were mounting over
the dwellings of men and of Gods. And Anna her
sister heard it, and rushing through the midst called
her by name : " O my sister, was this thy purpose ?
Were the pile and the sword and the fire for this ?
Why wouldst thou not suffer that I should die with
thee ? For surely, my sister, thou hast slain thyself, and
me, and thy people, and thy city. But give me water,
ye maidens, that I may wash her wounds, and if there
be any breath left in her, we may yet stay it."

Then she climbed on to the pile, and caught her
sister in her arms, and sought to staunch the blood
with her garments. Three times did Dido strive to raise
her eyes; three times did her spirit leave her. Three
times she would have raised herself upon her elbow;
three times she fell back upon the bed, looking with
wandering eyes for the light, and groaning that she
yet beheld it.

Then Juno, looking down from heaven, saw that

431

THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

her pain was long, and pitied her, and sent down Iris,
her messenger, that she might loose the soul that
struggled to be free. For, seeing that she died not by
nature, nor yet by the hand of man, but before her
time and of her own madness, Queen Proserpine had
not shred the ringlet from her head which she shreds
from them that die. Wherefore Iris, flying down with
dewy wings from heaven, with a thousand colors about
her from the light of the sun, stood about her head
and said, "I give thee to death, even as I am bidden,
and loose thee from thy body." Then she shred the
lock, and Queen Dido gave up the ghost.

THE FUNERAL GAMES OF
ANCHISES

*

By Charles Henry Hanson

TTT^NEAS called together all his followers, and re-
J. 1 A minded them that a year had now passed
since the death of his father. Not of their own purpose,
but doubtless by the will of the Gods, they had now
returned to the friendly land where his bones had been
laid. It was therefore his intention to celebrate fune-
ral games. For eight days there should be feasting,
for which Acestes had generously provided two oxen
for each ship; and on the ninth day he would give
prizes to be contested in the foot-race, in shooting with
the bow, and in boxing with the cestus.

Having thus spoken, the hero, according to the
custom of that time, placed a wreath of myrtle upon
his head and proceeded to the tomb of his father, where
he poured out, as a libation to the Gods, two bowls of
wine, two of new milk, and two of sacred blood. Then
he scattered flowers over the tomb, and offered up a
prayer to his father's shade. Immediately there came
forth from the tomb a huge snake with glittering scales
of blue and gold, which, after tasting of what had been
poured out, retired again to the recesses of the vault.
Believing this creature to be an attendant on his father's
spirit, ^Eneas offered rich sacrifices — ewes, sows, and

433

THE WANDERINGS OF

bullocks - - and his companions followed his example.
The eight days of feasting passed pleasantly enough,
and the morning appointed for the funeral games
dawned bright and serene. A joyous crowd assembled
on the shore, some to take part in the contests, and
others to watch them. The first of the games was a
race between galleys, and four ships had been entered
to take part in it. The first was the Pristis, or Shark,
of which Mnestheus wras the captain. The Chimera,
a vessel of immense size, was commanded by Gyas.
The other vessels were the Centaur and the Scylla, —
the first commanded by Sergestus, and the second
by Cloanthus. Some way out in the sea, opposite to
the starting-point, a rock rose amid the restless waters.
The galleys were to round this rock, on which vEneas
had planted an oak-tree as a mark, and then return to
the shore. The vessels were assigned their places by
lot, and the captain of each took his place on the poop;
while the rowers, stripped to the waist, their shoulders
glistening with oil, sat with their arms stretched to the
oars, eager for the signal. At the blast of a trumpet
all the oars struck the sea at once, and beat it into foam,
and the vessels shot forward amid the loud shouts of
the multitude. The Chimera, under Gyas's skillful
guidance, took the lead ; next followed the Scylla, whose
rowers were more efficient, but were unable to make
such progress, because the vessel was naturally slower.
Behind the Shark and the Centaur followed close to-
gether, and first the one and then the other gained
a slight advantage. The two leading vessels were
rapidly nearing the rock when Gyas perceived that

434

FUNERAL GAMES OF ANCHISES

his helmsman, Menoetes, was keeping a course too far
to the right, in fear of some hidden crags, and was
thus losing the advantage that had been gained. He
urged him to steer more to the left, nor to care even if
the oars grazed the rock; but Mencetes was afraid to
obey the command. And now Cloanthus in the Scylla,
taking the very course Gyas had wished to follow, ran
boldly between the Chimera and the rock, and so got
round the goal in front of his antagonist. When Gyas
beheld this he was full of wrath. Rushing to the helm,
he seized the over-cautious Menretes and hurled him
into the sea; then he himself took the helm, and at once
guided his ship and issued commands and cries of en-
couragement to his oarsmen. The luckless Mencetes
with difficulty contrived to scramble out of the sea
onto the rock, and sat there in his dripping garments,
while the spectators roared with laughter at his misad-
venture. But now Mnestheus in the Shark and Ser-
gestus in the Centaur pushed forward with redoubled
zeal in the hope of obtaining the lead. Sergestus got
a little in front of his competitor, but Mnestheus, walk-
ing among his rowers, urged them to put forth their
utmost strength, and at least not to suffer the disgrace of
being last. In response to his appeal they bent to the oar
with new vigor; the ship trembled under their strokes
and the water seemed to fly from beneath her keel.
Suddenly, while the Centaur, in full career, was press-
ing close to the rock to prevent the Shark from passing
on the inner side, she ran upon a jutting point where
she remained fast, while the oars were shattered against
the hard rocks. In a moment the Shark shot past,

435

THE WANDERINGS OF .ENEAS

and having rounded the goal, dashed on the homeward
way. Ere long Mnestheus had overtaken the Chimera,
which had lost ground because she was deprived of
her steersman. Cloanthus in the Scylla was now alone
in front of the Shark; and though the race was nearly
over, the frantic efforts of Mnestheus' crew might have
gained him the victory, but that Cloanthus poured forth
passionate prayers to the marine deities, and promised
them ample offerings if the first prize became his.
They heard his vows, and gathering underneath his
vessel, pushed it forward, so that it entered the harbor
just in front of the Shark. Then ^Eneas proclaimed
Cloanthus the victor, and gave him a mantle embroidered
with gold and ornamented with a thick fringe of the
costly Meliboean purple. On Mnestheus, who had so
gallantly gained the second place, he bestowed a pon-
derous coat of mail worked in gold and brass, which
he had himself taken from a famous Greek warrior,
Demoleus, whom he had slain before Troy. Gyas
received two caldrons of brass, and some silver bowls
ornamented with rich carvings. Lastly, when Ser-
gestus had slowly brought back to port his crippled
galley, his chief bestowed on him, in reward for having
rescued the vessel from her perilous position, a Cretan
female slave with her two children.

Thus ended the galley race; and the assembled
multitude now proceeded to a grassy plain a little way
inland, where thrones were placed for Acestes, ^Eneas,
and the other leaders. Here the remaining games
were to be celebrated, and first of all a foot race. Among
the competitors in this were Euryalus, a Trojan youth

436

FUNERAL GAMES OF ANCHISES

distinguished for his personal beauty; Nisus, a brave
warrior, who was his constant friend and companion;
Diores, Salius, and Patron, three other Trojans; and
two Sicilian youths famous for their speed, named
Elymus and Panopes. yEneas announced that he would
give two Cretan javelins of bright steel and a carved
battle-axe of silver to each who took part in the race,
and to the three who came in first other rich prizes:
to the first a war-horse with costly trappings; to the
second a quiver full of Thracian arrows, with a gold
belt and jeweled buckle; and to the third a Grecian
helmet. The runners having been placed in proper
order, the signal was given, and they darted forward
like a tempest. Nisus led the way, Salius coming second,
and Euryalus third, with the rest following close be-
hind. Already Nisus was near the goal, when unluckily
his foot slipped at a spot where some victims had been
sacrificed for the altar, and the blood soaking into the
grass had made it slippery. Down he fell into the
puddle, and in a moment his chance of victory had
disappeared. But even then, in spite of his disappoint-
ment, he was mindful of his affection for Eiiryalus,
and resolved that since he could not win the race, his
friend should do so. He rose to his feet just as Salius
was coming up, and contrived to stand in his way so
as to overturn him. Euryalus, who had still kept the
third place, now sprang forward, and was easily vic-
torious amid the applause of the crowd. Elymus came
in next, and close behind him Diores. But Salius
loudly demanded that the first prize of right belonged
to him, because he had been deprived of the victory

437

THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

by unfair means. The spectators, however, favored
the claim of Euryalus because of his youth and beauty;
and Diores vehemently took the same side, since, if
Salius were adjudged the victory, he would not receive
a prize at all. ^Eneas speedily silenced all contention
by declaring that the promised rewards should go to
the three who had arrived first at the winning-post;
but he added that he would show his sympathy for
the disaster which had befallen Salius, and therefore
bestowed on him the shaggy hide of a Getulian lion,
still retaining the claws, which had been gilt. Upon
this, Nisus also merrily asked for some consolation,
since but for an accident the first prize would have been
his, and he showed his face and limbs all besmeared
with mud. His chief entered into the jest, and gave
him a buckler, finely carved, which had once hung on
the walls of Neptune's temple at Troy.

The next contest was that with the cestus, the box-
ing-glove of the ancients, a formidable implement,
intended not to soften the blows dealt by the boxers,
but to make them more painful, for it was composed
of strips of hardened oxhide. To the competitors in
this sport- - if such it could be called — yEneas offered
two prizes, - - the first a bullock, decked with gold
and fillets, and the second a sword and a shining hel-
met. A noted Trojan warrior named Dares, a man of
immense strength and bulk, who was also celebrated
for his skill with the cestus, presented himself to con-
test this prize. He brandished his huge fists in the air,
and paced vaingloriously backward and forward in the
arena, challenging any one in the assembly to meet

438

HE ROSE TO HIS FEET JUST AT THE MOMENT THAT SALIUS WAS
COMING UP, AND CONTRIVED TO STAND IN HIS WAY SO AS TO
OVERTURN HIM. EURYALUS,AVHO HAD STILL KEPT THE THIRD
PLACE, NOW SPRANG FORWARD, AND WAS EASILY VICTORIOUS
AMID THE APPLAUSE OF THE CROWD. ELYMUS CAME IN NEXT,
AND CLOSE BEHIND HIM DIORES. BUT SALIUS LOUDLY DE-
MANDED THAT THE FIRST PRIZE OF RIGHT BELONGED TO HIM.

FUNERAL GAMES OF ANCHISES

him. But there was no response; his friends were too
well acquainted with his skill, and the Sicilians were
awed by his formidable appearance. At last, there-
fore, imagining that nobody would venture to encoun-
ter him, he advanced to ^Eneas and asked that the
prize might be given up to him. It seemed, indeed,
that this would have to be done, when King Acestes
turned to one of his elders, a venerable Sicilian chief
named Entellus, and asked how it was that he thus
allowed such splendid prizes to be taken before his
eyes without striking a blow for them. Entellus had,
in his younger days, been a great champion with the
cestus, having been taught the use of the weapon by
none other than Eryx, at that time king of Sicily, and
one of the most expert boxers in the world. So confi-
dent had Eryx been in his powers, that when the mighty
Hercules passed through Sicily on his way from Spain,
where he had slain King Geryon and carried off his
splendid cattle, the Sicilian monarch ventured to chal-
lenge the hero to a combat with the cestus, staking his
kingdom against the cattle which Hercules was bear-
ing away to Greece. Hercules had accepted the chal-
lenge, and had slain Eryx in the encounter; but the
tradition of his skill had been preserved by his pupil
Entellus. The chief was now old, and disinclined for
exertion; but when thus urged by King Acestes, he
slowly rose and threw into the arena the gauntlets which
King Eryx had been accustomed to use. Terrible wea-
pons indeed they were, with heavy pieces of iron and
lead sewn into them underneath the oxhide. At the
mere sight of them Dares shrank back appalled, and

439

THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

refused to fight with such implements. "These,"
said Entellus, " were the gauntlets with which my mas-
ter Eryx encountered Hercules; and these, after his
death, I myself was accustomed to use. But if Dares
likes not such gloves, let ^Eneas provide others for both
of us." With these words he threw off his upper gar-
ments and bared his massive shoulders and sinewy
arms. The Trojan chief brought out two pairs of gaunt-
lets of less formidable make, with which the two cham-
pions armed themselves; and then they stood face to
face, and both raised their arms for the encounter.
For some time they stood parrying each other's blows
and watching for an opportunity. Presently, as they
grew warmer, many heavy strokes were given on each
side, now on the head, now on the breast. Entellus
stood stiff and unmoved in the same firm posture,
only bending to evade Dares's blows, and always closely
watching his antagonist, who, more active, wheeled
round him, trying first one method of attack, then an-
other. At last Entellus uplifted his right arm, think-
ing he saw an opportunity for delivering a decisive
stroke; but Dares with great agility slipped out of
the way, and as the arm of Entellus encountered no
resistance save from the empty air, he fell forward
on the ground through the violence of his own effort.
Acclamations burst from all the onlookers, and Acestes
himself stepped forward to assist his old companion to
his feet. But the mishap had only aroused Entellus's
anger; he no longer acted on the defensive, but rushed
upon his opponent with irresistible ardor, and smote
blow after blow, driving Dares headlong over the field,

440

FUNERAL GAMES OF ANCHISES

pouring down strokes as incessantly as a shower of
hail rattles upon the house-tops. vEneas now deemed
it high time to put a stop to the combat, and called
upon Dares, who indeed was quite overpowered, to
yield. His comrades led the beaten champion to the
ships, with the blood flowing from his battered head
and face, and on his behalf they took away the helmet
and sword, leaving the bull to the conqueror. Entellus,
proud of his victory, laid hold of the animal, and ex-
claimed, " Behold, O chief, and you Trojans, from this
what my strength once was, and also from what death
you have saved Dares." With these words he smote
the bull on the forehead with the cestus so mightily
that the skull was battered in and the brute sank dead
at his feet.

After this exciting competition came a more peace-
ful sport, — a trial of skill with the bow. A mast was
planted on a sward, and to the top of it a living dove
was secured by a cord. This was the mark, and four
archers came forward to contend for the prizes, -
Hippocoon, the brother of Nisus and one of ^Eneas's
dearest friends; Mnestheus, the winner of the second
prize in the galley race; Eurytion, a brother of that
Pandarus who was one of the most skillful archers
that fought in the Trojan war, and who, after wound-
ing Menelaus, was slain by Diomedes; and lastly,
King Acestes himself. Hippocoon shot first, and his
arrow, whizzing past the fluttering dove, pierced the
pole to which she was fastened. This, though it did
not hit the mark, was an excellent shot, and it won
loud applause from the spectators. Mnestheus next dis-

441

THE WANDERINGS OF

charged his dart, taking a long and steady aim ; but
his arrow, instead of striking the bird, cut in two the
cord by which she was fastened, and, spreading her
wings, the dove at once flew away. Instantly, however,
Eurytion raised his bow, and shot with so true an aim
that he struck the bird even in mid-flight, and brought
her lifeless to the earth. There was thus no longer a
mark at which Acestes could aim; but notwithstand-
ing he drew his bow and discharged a shaft high into
the air. And now a strange prodigy happened; for the
arrow, soaring upward, took fire as it flew, and marked
out a path of flame, till, being quite consumed, it van-
ished into the air. This spectacle naturally excited the
wonder and reverence of the assembled multitude; and
JSneas, embracing Acestes, declared that the incident
was an omen from the Gods awarding to him the first
prize. He therefore bestowed on him a splendid bowl,
embossed with figures, which had once belonged to An-
chises, nor did the other competitors dispute the justice
of the decision.

But the games were not yet ended. The Trojan
chief had prepared a closing spectacle as a surprise
for the spectators. He sent a messenger to summon
Ascanius, and in the mean time ordered a large space
of ground to be cleared. Then suddenly his son en-
tered on horseback at the head of a numerous com-
pany,--all the youths of the expedition. They were
attired alike, with garlands on their heads and circles
of gold about their necks; and each carried two spears
of cornel-wood, tipped with steel. The young eques-
trians were divided into three companies; one was

442

FUNERAL GAMES OF ANCHISES

commanded by Ascanius himself, mounted on a beau-
tiful Sidonian steed which had been given him by
Queen Dido; a second by the youthful Priam, a son
of that Polites whom Pyrrhus slew at the fall of Troy;
and the third by Atys, a boy who was Ascanius' especial
friend and companion. They went through a series
of evolutions, now advancing in line, again forming in
different bands and pretending to charge one another,
and afterwards going through many other intricate
manoeuvres. The scene was a most picturesque one,
and gave great pleasure to those wrho witnessed it.

^ENEAS'S VISIT TO THE ; LOWER

WORLD

By Charles Henry Hanson

/CONTINUING his voyage, ^Eneas reached the
\_J shore of the country afterwards named Campa-
nia, the modern province of Naples. Here the ships
were carefully moored, and the crews disembarked.
Some busied themselves in kindling fires and prepar-
ing a meal; others explored the country in search of
game. JEneas, however, hastened at once to seek
the temple of Apollo and the adjoining cave of the
Cumsean Sibyl, --the most famous of all the oracles
of antiquity. The temple and cave were situated in
a thick wood, closely adjoining the gloomy lake of
Avernus, a black pool of unknown depth, hedged in
by precipitous cliffs, and emitting gases so poisonous
that no bird was able to fly over it in safety. In the
rocks at one side of the lake there yawned a sombre
cavern, which was believed in those days to be the
entrance to the kingdom of Pluto - - the abode of the
dead.

^Eneas was surveying the temple, — an edifice, of
great splendor, adorned with pictures wrought in metal
by the cunning hand of Daedalus, — when Achates,
whom he had sent before him to the Sibyl's cave, ap-
proached, conducting the priestess. " O prince," she

444

HIS VISIT TO THE LOWER WORLD

said, "this is not the time for admiring the works of
men. It will be more fitting for you to propitiate the
god with sacrifices, so that he may inspire me." With
this mandate the hero at once complied, and then
the Sibyl summoned him and his followers to the
entrance of her cave, - - a vast apartment carved out
of the living rock, whence issued a hundred corridors.
Scarcely had the Trojans approached the threshold
when the virgin exclaimed, "Now is the time to con-
sult your fate! The god! lo, the god!" As she cried
out thus her looks suddenly changed, her color came
and went, her hair fell in disorder over her shoulders,
her bosom heaved, and she was shaken by an uncon-
trollable passion. Her very form seemed to dilate,
and the tone of her voice was no longer that of a mere
mortal, since she was inspired by the influence of the
god. "Trojan ^Eneas!" she exclaimed, "delay no
longer to offer thy prayers for the knowledge which
thou seekest; for not till then can I reveal to thee the
secrets of the future."

Earnestly did ^Eneas implore pity and aid from
Apollo; and of the Sibyl he entreated that she should
proclaim her revelations by word of mouth, and not,
as was her custom, write them on leaves of trees, lest
they should become the sport of the winds. At first
the prophetess did not answer; she was not yet fully
possessed by the spirit of the god, and raved in wild
ecstasy in the cave, struggling, as it were, to resist
the will of Phoebus, who, on his part, wearied her
foaming lips, subdued her fierce heart, and moulded
her to his will. Then all at once the hundred doors

445

THE WANDERINGS OF .ENEAS

of the cavern flew open of their own accord, and the
Sibyl proclaimed the divine response, -

"O thou who hast at length overpassed the perils
of the ocean, yet more terrible trials await thee on
shore. Thou and thy Trojans shall indeed reach the
promised land - - that is assured ; but ye shall wish
that ye had never come thither. Wars, horrid wars,
I foresee, and Tiber foaming with a deluge of blood.
Another Achilles awaits thee in Latium — he also
the son of a goddess. Nor shall the persecutions of
Juno cease to follow the Trojans wherever they may
be; and in your distress you will humbly supplicate
all the surrounding Italian states for aid. Once more
shall a marriage with a foreign wife be a source of
affliction to you. But yield not under your sufferings;
encounter them resolutely in the teeth of adverse
fortune, and when you least expect it, the means of
deliverance shall come to you from a Greek city."

So, under the inspiration of Apollo, spoke the Sibyl.
When she had ceased, vEneas answered that no pros-
pect of further trials could appall him, for he was pre-
pared to endure the worst that could befall. But he now
entreated, since it was said that the entrance to the
shades was near, that the Sibyl should conduct him
into those dark regions, in order that he might obtain
an interview with the spectre of his father. It was
Anchises' self, he added, who had bidden him make
this request; and filial devotion would enable him to
perform a task which Orpheus had achieved out of
love for his wife Eurydice, and Pollux through his at-
tachment to his brother Castor.

446

HIS VISIT TO THE LOWER WORLD

"^Eneas," replied the priestess, "easy is the descent
into Hades: grim Pluto's gate stands open night and
day, but to retrace your steps and escape to the upper
regions will be a difficult task indeed, and one which
few have hitherto been able to accomplish. If, however,
you are fixed in the resolve to pursue so desperate an
enterprise, learn what first is to be done. There is in
the dark woods which surround the Lake of Avernus
a certain tree, dense of foliage, on which grows a sin-
gle bough of gold, with leaves and twigs of the same
precious metal, and no living mortal can enter Hades
unless he has first found and plucked this bough,
which is demanded by Proserpine, the consort of Pluto
and queen of the infernal realms, as her peculiar trib-
ute. When the bough is torn off, another always grows
in its place. Therefore search for it diligently, and
when you have discovered it grasp it with your hand.
If the Fates are propitious to your enterprise, you will
be able to pluck it easily; if otherwise, your whole
strength could not tear it from the tree, nor could you
ever sever it with your sword. In the mean time the
body of one of your friends lies lifeless, and demands
the funeral rites. First bury him with proper cere-
monies, and then return to me with black cattle for
the sacrifices; and then you shall be able to visit the
realms of Hades, to which most living men are denied
an entrance."

With sorrowful thoughts JSneas, closely followed
by Achates, now withdrew from the shrine, and took
the way to the shore. Both were greatly perplexed
to know what was the corpse needing burial of which

447

THE WANDERINGS OF .

the Sibyl had spoken. But while they were wondering
they came to the beach, and there, before them, they
saw lying the body of Misenus, who had come to a
lamentable end. Misenus was the most skilled among
all the Trojans in the art of blowing the trumpet. He
had been, besides, a famous warrior, and during the
siege of Troy was accustomed to be the companion
of Hector in the field, and to fight by his side. When
Hector fell, he attached himself to ^Eneas, scorning to
follow any less illustrious chief, and so had formed one
of the band which the hero was conducting to Latium.
But he was inordinately vain of his skill with the trum-
pet, and believed himself superior even to the Tritons,
the sea-deities whose especial province it was to lull
the seas at the command of Neptune by blowing upon
instruments made of shells. These Tritons Misenus
had challenged to a trial of skill, and by way of defiance
had blown so loud a note that the deities were afraid
to respond to his challenge; but being full of jealousy,
they had now contrived to lure him into the sea and
drown him. The discovery of his lifeless body filled
all his comrades with sadness. They gathered about
him with loud lamentations, and then prepared to erect
his funeral pyre, hastening with axes into the thick
surrounding woods, and cutting down huge oaks and
pines and ash-trees.

^Eneas himself led the way in the performance of

this task, and while he was engaged in it he conld not

help exclaiming, as his glance surveyed the wide forest,

'Would that I could now perceive the golden bough

which I must find before entering Hades; for in this

448

HIS VISIT TO THE LOWER WORLD

ample forest, how can I begin to search for It ? " Scarcely
had he spoken when two pigeons suddenly swooped
down from the upper air and alighted at his feet. He
guessed at once that these doves, his mother's favor-
ite birds, had been sent for his guidance, and he en-
treated them to conduct him to the place where the
precious bough was growing. The doves, feeding and
flying by turns, advanced through the wood at such
a speed that ^Eneas could easily keep them in sight,
and presently, having reached the very edge of Lake
Avernus, both rose at once into the air, and settled on
a great tree of very dense foliage. The hero hastened
to the spot, and there indeed, on one of the lower
limbs of the tree, gleamed the bough, the rich yellow
lustre of its leaves and twigs contrasting vividly with
the deep green of the surrounding foliage. yEneas
with delight grasped it, and plucked it from its place,
and, bearing it carefully in his hand, hastened to re-
join his companions.

They, in the mean time, had reared on the shore a
vast pile of logs of pine and oak, the sides of which
they had interlaced with smaller boughs. After having
carefully washed and purified the body of Misenus,
they first made a couch upon the pyre, with the appa-
rel of the dead man, and then, with renewed cries of
grief, placed the body upon it. His arms, too, they
laid beside him, and having poured incense and oil
abundantly upon the pile, they set it on fire. When only
smouldering embers were left, these were quenched
with wine, and the ashes of the dead were carefully
collected and placed in a brazen urn. This urn was

449

THE WANDERINGS OF .ENEAS

afterwards deposited in a lofty tomb which ^Eneas
erected on a promontory that henceforth bore the name
of Misenus.

The funeral ceremonies having thus duly been per-
formed, the hero proceeded to the cave of the Sibyl,
and called upon her to fulfill her promise, and accom-
pany him to the kingdom of the dead. She led him
to the mouth of the black cavern at the side of Lake
Avernus, and there offered up sacrifices of black cat-
tle and sheep, uttering various invocations. Presently
the ground began to rumble beneath their feet; upon
which the Sibyl ordered those of ^Eneas's followers
who had attended him to withdraw from the spot,
and exhorted the chief himself, drawing his sword
from its sheath, to march firmly forward. So saying
she plunged into the cave, nor did he hesitate to follow.

At first they moved along through a region that was
utterly waste, void, and covered with an intense gloom,
deep as that of a winter's night when the moon is ob-
scured by clouds. But this desolate tract was not wholly
untenanted, for ./Eneas saw flitting about certain hideous
shadowy forms. The spirits of Grief and Revenge
and pale Disease, Fear and Famine and deformed
Indigence, had their abode in this vestibule of Hades;
and so, too, Death and Toil, and murderous War, and
frantic Discord, her head crowned with curling vipers
and bound by a blood-dyed fillet. Here, also, were
the iron chambers in which dwelt the terrible Furies.
In the midst rose a gloomy elm, which was the haunt
of vain Dreams, who dwelt under every leaf. Beyond
this tree were many huge and misshapen monsters, —

450

HIS VISIT TO THE LOWER WORLD

Centaurs, and double-formed Scyllas, and the great
dragon of the Lernaean lake, which, when it plagued
the upper earth, was slain by Hercules. Here, also,
was the huge Chimsera, with its three heads vomiting
flames; Gorgons, Harpies, and other ghastly forms
flitted about. At so fearful a sight ^Eneas was seized
with sudden fear; he drew his sword, and would have
struck at the monsters, if the Sibyl had not restrained
his hand and reminded him that they were but dis-
embodied shadows.

The path now led them to a place where the three
infernal rivers, Acheron, Cocytus, and Styx, met in
one deep, black, and boiling flood. Here there kept
guard the grim ferryman Charon, an infernal deity
of fearful aspect. A long gray beard fell all tangled
and neglected from his chin; his filthy and ragged
garments were knotted over his shoulders; his eyes
glittered with baleful light. He sat on a great black
barge, which he pushed to and fro across the river
with a pole. An immense crowd of shades was inces-
santly pouring to the banks, - - young and old, matrons
and virgins, warriors who had endured the toils of
a long life and tender boys who had died while yet
under the care of their parents. All were eager to cross
the stream, and stretched their hands in earnest en-
treaty to Charon to admit them into his boat. But
the sullen ferryman only consented to receive some;
others he drove back with his pole, and would on no
account permit them to cross.

yEneas was amazed at this scene, and asked the Sibyl
to explain to him its meaning. ' You see before you,'*

451

THE WANDERINGS OF .ENEAS

she replied, " the deep pools of Cocytus, and the Stygian
lake, by which the Gods are accustomed to swear when
they take an oath which they dare not violate. All that
crowd which Charon will not ferry across is composed
of persons who after death received not the rites of
burial; those only are permitted to enter the boat who
have been interred with proper ceremonies. As for the
others, they wander unquiet about these shores for a
hundred years before they are allowed to cross to the
regions beyond."

When J^neas heard this he was filled with sadness,
for among the spectres of the unburied who crowded
on the bank he saw many of his own comrades who
had perished during the storms he had had to en-
counter during his long voyages. As he looked, there
advanced, slow and mournful, the pilot Palinurus, who
had been thrown overboard by Somnus during the
recent voyage from Sicily. The hero accosted him,
and asked him what god had torn him from his post
and overwhelmed him in the midst of the ocean. The
oracle of Apollo, he said, had assured him that Pali-
nurus would be safe on the sea, and would arrive on
the Italian coast; and yet it would seem that the oracle
had been falsified. The shade of Palinurus, knowing
nothing of the enchantment which had been wrought
on him by Somnus, replied that no god had destroyed
him, and that the oracle had spoken truly. He had fallen
into the sea through being overcome by slumber, and
having kept afloat for three days and nights, had on
the fourth day reached the Italian shore alive, but
had been cruelly murdered by the savage people while

452

HIS VISIT TO THE LOWER WORLD

clambering up the cliffs. Now his body was tossing on
the waves, sometimes thrown on the shore and then
washed off again. But he passionately entreated ^Eneas
either to find his corpse and inter it with proper solem-
nities, or else to contrive some means of taking him
as his companion across the black waters of Styx,
unburied as he was, that at last his soul might find
rest. The Sibyl, however, rebuked him for expressing
so impious a desire, and for hoping that the fixed
decrees of the Gods could be violated for the benefit
of one insignificant mortal. But by way of consola-
tion she informed him that the people of the country
where he had met with his death, compelled by terrible
plagues sent by Jupiter, would offer solemn atonement
to his remains, erect a tomb to his memory, and give
his name to the place where it stood.

^Eneas and the Sibyl now advanced toward the river;
but when Charon saw them approaching, he called
out, "Whoever thou mayest be that art now coming
armed and in life to our rivers, say quickly on what
errand thou art coming. This is the region of ghosts
and death; to waft over the bodies of the living in my
boat is not permitted. Nor was it joyful to me to re-
ceive Hercules when he came, nor Theseus and Piri-
thous, though they were descendants - of the Gods and
unconquerable in war. Hercules dared to bind in
chains Cerberus himself, the keeper of the gate of
Tartarus, and dragged him trembling from the very
throne of Pluto. The others attempted a feat scarcely
less perilous, for they sought to carry off our queen
Proserpine."

453

THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

"Be not disturbed," answered the Sibyl; "we at
least meditate no such plots, nor does this mortal bring
with him his arms for any purpose of violence. He is
^Eneas of Troy, illustrious for piety and skill in arms,
and he penetrates these gloomy abodes to have con-
verse with his father Anchises. If your compassion is
not moved by his filial devotion, at least pay regard
to this branch." And so saying, she produced the
golden bough. The surly ferryman, though filled with
rage at being forced to obey, was at once silenced.
He brought his boat to the bank, and silently received
into it ^Eneas and his companion, driving back the
ghosts that at the same time eagerly strove to enter
the vessel. It was old and leaky, and sank deep in the
black flood under the unaccustomed weight of living
mortals; but Charon ferried them safely across, and
landed them on the farther side, where, in a huge
den at the gate of the infernal regions, lay Cerberus,
the terrible three-headed dog which was the guardian
of the place - - a ferocious brute which only Hercules
among living men had been able to subdue. \Vhen

o o

^Eneas approached he opened his huge jaws and made
all Hades resound writh his barking; but the Sibyl
threw to him a medicated cake, which he at once de-
voured, and was thereby lulled into profound sleep.
The way was now safe; the Trojan chief and his com-
panion passed quickly through the open gate, and
entered the dread region where Minos and his fellow
judges pronounced on the fate of each ghost that came
before them.

The first place within the gate was assigned to the

HIS VISIT TO THE LOWER WORLD

shades of infants, cut off in the very beginning of life,
who filled their allotted region with loud wailings and
weeping. Beyond these were placed persons who had
been put to death in consequence of false accusations.
Not even the unjust suffering which such persons
had endured on earth could at once procure for them
a place among those happy spirits declared free of
guilt. Here they were doomed to wait till the inex-
orable Minos examined each case and gave his award.
Immediately adjoining was the place allotted to those
who, though unstained by crime, had become wreary
of life and had committed self-destruction. Gladly,
indeed, would they have now returned to the upper
world they had despised, but no such return was pos-
sible to them.

^Eneas and his companion next viewed a region
named the Fields of Mourning, - - a wide tract, with
shady paths and thick myrtle groves, dedicated to
those who had died through unrequited love, and were
held to have been emancipated by the miseries they
had endured on earth from suffering any punishment
below. Here were to be seen, wandering disconsolately,
many women of whom yEneas had heard in old legends
of Greece and Troy. Among them he beheld, with
sorrow and pity, the ill-starred Queen of Carthage,
the wound she had herself inflicted yet gaping in her
fair bosom. "Dido!" he exclaimed with tears, "was
it then a true rumor that reached me of your having
died after my departure, and by your own hand ? If
I have been the cause of your death, I am indeed un-
happy. By all I hold sacred, fair queen, I swear to you

455

THE WANDERINGS OF

that it was against my own will I quitted Carthage.
The will of the Gods, which now has brought me,
while yet living, into these melancholy realms, drove
me from you; but I dreamt not that our separation
would bring upon you such extreme suffering. Why
will you not speak to me ? Why do you fly from me ?
Never again will the Fates permit us to meet together."
But all his entreaties and his tears were vain. The
spectre gazed upon him awhile with eyes of inexorable
hate, and then turned away, with a gesture of unrelent-
ing aversion, to a shady recess near by, where she was
joined by the ghost of her first lord, Sichseus, who by
the compassion of Pluto had been permitted to bear
her company. ^Eneas resumed his journey, pondering
sadly over the fate of the woman who but a little since
had loved him so ardently and to whom he had unwill-
ingly brought such misfortunes. He and his guide now
came to a place dedicated to the shades of renowned
warriors. Here he saw numbers of those brave Trojans,
once his companions in arms, who had fallen before
Troy. They eagerly crowded around him, pressed his
hands, and questioned him as to the circumstances
which had brought him, while yet alive, amongst them.
There, too, were many Greeks who had perished during
the Trojan war; but when they beheld the hero in the
flesh, and wearing his gleaming armor, they fled from
him in dismay. As he passed on, after exchanging af-
fectionate words with many of his old comrades, he
met Deiphobus, that son of Priam who, after the death
of Paris, became the husband of Helen. The spectre
of the prince was cruelly mutilated, — so thet -Eneas

456

HIS VISIT TO THE LOWER WORLD

scarcely knew him. " Who, O Deiphobus," he exclaimed,
"could have inflicted such shameful wounds upon
you ? After I had escaped from Troy a story was brought
to me that you had indeed perished, but honorably
and in fair fight, having slain many of the enemy.
Then I erected in your honor an empty tomb on the
shore under Mount Ida, and offered proper funeral
rites, for your body I was unable to find."

'You, my friend," answered Deiphobus, "omitted
no duty towards my corpse that you could perform.
But I owe my death and these infamous wounds to the
wickedness of Helen; they are the marks of her love.
On the night after the fatal horse was brought into
Troy, I was lying asleep in my chamber, enjoying
needful repose. Then my faithless wife removed all
the arms from my palace, and even took away my
sword from the side of my couch. That done, she threw
open the gates, and herself summoned her former
husband, Menelaus, and he and Ulysses burst into
my apartment and inflicted on me these wounds, for
which I pray the Gods that they may be requited."

^neas would have spent yet more time in convers-
ing with the shades of his former comrades; but the
Sibyl reminded him that the hour was approaching
when he must return to the upper world. "Here,"
she said, "the path is divided. To the right, past the
palace of Pluto, lies our way to the Elysian Fields; on
the left is the way to Tartarus, the place of punish-
ment for the wicked."

As they proceeded toward Elysium, JEneas looked
around him, and beheld to the left a vast prison, en-

457

THE WANDERINGS OF JENEAS

closed by mighty walls, at the foot of which ran Phlege-
thon, the river of fire, whirling along great rocks in its
furious current. Across the stream, just opposite to
where he was standing, was a lofty gate, with columns
of solid adamant. In an iron tower adjoining sat Tisi-
phone, the eldest of the Furies, watching the gate.
From within sounds were heard - - groans of pain,
the sound of cruel lashes, and the clanking of chains.
./Eneas asked his companion what punishments were
being inflicted within, and who were the sufferers.
"This," replied the Sibyl, "is Tartarus, whereinto no
righteous person can enter. Here Rhadamanthus pre-
sides: he searches into the deeds of all who are sent
hither, obliges them to confess all the crimes they have
committed in the upper world, and awards the punish-
ment. As soon as the sentence is pronounced, Tisi-
phone scourges the doomed one with a whip of scor-
pions, and then consigns him to the fierce attendants
of her sister Furies. Immediately the gates, creaking
on their hinges, fly open. Within, the entrance is
guarded by a hideous Hydra, with fifty black and gaping
mouths. In the pit of Tartarus beyond, the giants who
waged Avar against the ruler of the Gods lie prostrated
by his thunderbolts. Beside them, enduring terrible
tortures, is Salmoneus. He was a king of Elis in Greece,
and was so puffed up by pride that he rode through his
city on a high chariot drawn by four prancing horses,
waving in his hand a torch, and pretending to be Jupi-
ter himself, wielding his thunderbolts. The Almighty
Sire punished his impiety by hurling from Olympus
a real thunderbolt, which deprived him of life; and

458

HIS VISIT TO THE LOWER WORLD

now he pays the penalty of his mad pride by eternal
sufferings in Tartarus. There also lies Tityus, the huge
giant who, having insulted the goddess Latona, was
slain by the darts of her children, Apollo and Diana,
and whose writhing body now lies extended over
nine acres of ground, while insatiable vultures per-
petually prey on his vitals, that are renewed as fast
as they are devoured. Beyond him is Ixion, bound
to a wheel that never ceases to revolve, while he is
scourged by attendant Furies. He it was who, being
admitted to Olympus by the generosity of Jupiter him-
self, dared to seek the love of the queen of the Gods.
Not less dreadful is the punishment allotted to Piri-
thous, who, along with Theseus, endeavored to carry
off the Queen of Hades, Proserpine, from the side of
Pluto. Over his head hangs a huge rock, which every
moment seems about to fall and crush him, but yet
never actually descends; moreover, he is plagued with
a gnawing hunger, and a rich banquet is always before
him, which yet he is never able to reach. Myriads of
other unhappy shades, whose course on earth has
been stained by detestable crime, here expiate the evil
they have done; but had I a hundred mouths and a
hundred tongues, I could not recount all their offenses
and the varieties of their punishment. It is necessary
that we should go forward, since yonder stands the
palace of Pluto, where thou, O ^Eneas, must deposit
the bough which has gained thee admission here."

Obedient to his guide, ^Eneas advanced to the vast
portals of the palace where Pluto, the brother of Jupiter
and monarch of the infernal kingdom, had his abode

459

THE WANDERINGS OF

with his lovely queen Proserpine, the daughter of Ceres,
whom ages before he had carried off from the upper
world. There he made due reverence before the goddess,
and deposited the golden bough at her feet. Advancing
beyond, vEneas and the Sibyl came at last to the Elysian
Fields, - - the abode of joy assigned to those who during
life had been distinguished for piety, virtue, and heroic
actions. Here were lovely green fields and pleasant
groves; the air was pure and balmy, the sky was blue,
and all was glowing in the light of the blessed sun.
Some of the happy spirits who dwelt in this region
were amusing themselves by wrestling on the green-
sward, and other sports in which they had delighted
on earth, such as chariot-racing, exercises with the
spear and the bow. Others were dancing and singing
to the delicious notes which Orpheus, the most skill-
ful of musicians, produced from his lyre. On the bank
of the river Eridanus, which pours its clear w7aters
through Elysium over sands of gold, were gathered
a band whose heads were adorned with snow-white
fillets. These were priests who had kept unstained
the purity and sanctity of their office; poets who had
sung the praises of the Gods in immortal verse; and
those wrho had made human life more happy by the
invention of useful arts. Among them the Sibyl sought
out MUSECUS, the father of the poets, and besought
him to reveal in what retreat thev should find Anchises,

•/

on whose account she and her companion had traversed
all the regions of the shades.

:< None of us," answered the venerable shade, " have
here any fixed abode. We wander at our will among

460

HIS VISIT TO THE LOWER WORLD

the shady groves and by the pleasant banks of the
river. But if you mount with me this little eminence,
I will show you him whom you seek."

As he spoke, he led them to a spot where they could
survey all the shining plains around, and pointed to
where Anchises, reclined in a secluded vale, was sur-
veying the souls of his descendants who were destined
in future times to visit the earth, and were enacting
beforehand the achievements they were fated to accom-
plish during life. As soon as he saw ^Eneas advancing
toward him, he rose with hands stretched out and
joyful tears pouring down his face.

"Are you indeed," he exclaimed, "come to me at
last, my son ? Am I permitted once more to see your
face, and to listen to the tones of your dear voice ?
Now indeed the hopes which I cherished are fulfilled.
By how many dangers have you been threatened since
we parted ! I was filled with dread lest you should be
prevented from accomplishing your task by the temp-
tations which beset you at Carthage."

"Thy apparition, beloved father," answered ^Eneas,
"continually appearing to me in dreams, urged me
forward even to these regions. Permit me now to clasp
thee in my arms, and do not withdraw from my em-
brace." Thrice did he attempt to throw his arms about
the shade, which being only composed of thin air, was
not perceptible to his touch. While the two conversed
together, ^Eneas observed at no great distance from
them a stream, at which prodigious numbers of ghosts
were incessantly crowding to drink, swarming like bees
round their hive. Astonished at this spectacle, the hero

461

THE WANDERINGS OF .ENEAS

inquired of his father what that stream was, and why
those spectres were so eager to drink of it. "These,"
answered Anchises, "are souls destined by fate to
occupy other bodies in the upper world; and the
stream is Lethe, one draught of which is sufficient to
destroy all recollection of their former condition."

" But surely," said .Eneas, " it is not to be believed
that any souls which have tasted the delights of this
abode will be desirous to return again to the life of
earth, with its uncertainties and its miseries. How
comes it that this impulse possesses them ? "

In reply to this question, Anchises entered into a
long explanation, the substance of which was that all
the spirits of the departed had to endure in the regions
below a process of expiation for their earthly sins,
longer or shorter according to the nature of their trans-
gressions. Those that were not consigned to the pains
of Tartarus entered the Elysian Fields, where, after
they had remained a thousand years, they were sum-
moned to drink of the waters of Lethe, and thus lose
all recollection of their former lives ; after which, being
purified from all stain, they were fitted to return to
the upper world and inhabit new bodies. Anchises
added that he would show to his son the forms of his
own descendants in the Italian kingdom he was des-
tined to establish, and would trace for him their achieve-
ments. Leading /Eneas and the Sibyl onto a rising
ground, in the midst of the souls which were crowding
about the magic stream of Lethe, he pointed out to
him a long array of future kings of Latium, — Silvius,
who was to be the son of /Eneas's old age by his consort

462

HIS VISIT TO THE LOWER WORLD

Lavinia; Procas, Capys, and Numitor, destined to be
monarchs of Alba Longa; and Romulus, the future
founder of the great city of Rome, which would extend
over seven hills, and would spread her dominion over
the whole earth. Not far from these were the souls
of Romulus's successors in the early days of Rome,
- Numa Pompilius, who first would give his country
laws, and encourage the arts of peace; Tullus Hostil-
ius, who would wage victorious wars, and extend the
territories of Rome; Ancus Martius, not less success-
ful in the field; and Tarquin, destined to lose the throne
through his oppressive reign. Anchises proceeded to
indicate to his wondering son many of the patriots
and generals who in future years were to contribute
to the glory and power of the Roman State, — more
especially the great Julius Caesar, the lineal descendant
of ^Eneas himself; and Augustus, who would once more
establish the golden age in Latium, and whose empire
would extend to countries as yet unknown. The vene-
rable shade concluded his forecast of the future writh a
splendid description of the part which Rome wras des-
tined to play in the world's history : —

"Let others better mould the running mass
Of metals, and inform the breathing brass,
And soften into flesh a marble face;
Plead better at the bar; describes the skies,
And when the stars descend, and when they rise:
But Rome! 't is thine alone, with awful sway
To rule mankind, and make the world obey,
Disposing peace and war thy own majestic way;
To tame the proud, the fettered slave to free, —
These are imperial arts, and worthy thee."

463

THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

Having thus inspired /Eneas with renewed determi-
nation by showing him the brilliant future that was
awaiting his descendants, Anchises conducted him over
those parts of the Elysian Fields which he had not yet
visited, and showed him everything that was of peculiar
interest. As they went, he discoursed to him respecting
the wars which he would have to wage in Latium, and
gave him counsel as to the means by which he should
overcome every difficulty. Then at last, having brought
him to the ivory gate whence the gods were accus-
tomed to send false dreams to the upper world, he bade
him farewell. By that gate /Eneas and the Sibyl quitted
the abodes of the dead, and ascended without diffi-
culty or adventure to the cave of the oracle, whence
the hero hastened at once to his ships. Without loss
of time he ordered the sails to be spread, and the ships
were steered along the coast, drawing nearer ever hour
to their final destination.

.ENEAS'S FIRST GREAT BATTLE
WITH THE LATINS

By Charles Henry Hanson

[yEneas finally lands in Italy, the country promised
him by the Gods as a home for his race. The Italian
king, Latinus, has been warned by signs and omens
that the hand of his daughter Lavinia must not be
given to an Italian prince, but to a stranger coming
from a far country. He believes that JEneas is the hero
chosen by the Fates as her husband, and greets him
in most friendly manner. Queen Amata, however,
is influenced by the Trojan-hating Juno to oppose
this marriage. Turnus, chief of the Rutuli, a suitor
of Lavinia, is next aroused, and soon the whole king-
dom is in a turmoil. A fierce battle ensues.]

TURNUS, having brought the bulk of his forces from
before the beseiged camp, hurled them against
the army of ^Eneas before its ranks were properly
formed, and a furious conflict at once began to rage.
The Trojan hero, rejoicing to find himself once more on
a field of battle, first encountered the Latian warriors,
who chanced to be in his front. Their leader was Theron,
a man of gigantic stature, who did not hesitate to en-
gage ^Eneas hand to hand; but he paid dearly for his
rashness, for the sword which Vulcan had forged -

465

THE WANDERINGS OF

so keen was its edge, so excellent its temper — pierced
through his brazen buckler and his tunic stiffened by
bars of gold, and penetrating his side, drained the life-
blood. Next the hero struck down Lycas; and rush-
ing onward, encountered two stalwart rustics, Cisseus
and Gyas, who were making havoc among the Trojans
by beating them down with ponderous clubs. On the
divine armor the heavy blows of these rude weapons
fell harmless, while the spear of ^Eneas proved fatal
to both those who wielded them. An insolent warrior
named Pharus was defying the hero from a short dis-
tance with taunting speech, when he hurled a javelin,
which struck the boaster full in the mouth, and trans-
fixing the throat, silenced him forever. Now a band
of seven brothers, the sons of Phorcus, all at once
attacked ^Eneas with darts, throwing them together.
Some of the weapons struck his helmet and shield,
and rebounded; others, turned aside by the care of
Venus, grazed his skin. yEneas called to Achates to
bring him more spears, and snatching one as soon
as it was offered, hurled it against Mseon, one of the
brothers, with such force that it penetrated his shield
and corselet, and inflicted a mortal wound in his breast.
Another brother, Alcanor, hurrying up to Maeon's
assistance, he smote with a second spear, just where
the arm and shoulder join, leaving the arm hanging
to the body only by two or three shreds of skin and
muscle. Seeing the slaughter that ^Eneas was spreading
around him, Halsesus and Messapus hurried up with
their bands to confront him, and so in that part of the
field the battle grew still more furious.

466

BATTLE WITH THE LATINS

In another part, where Pallas was fighting at the
head of his Arcadian horsemen, the ground had been
rendered so uneven by the winter torrents that they
were obliged to dismount, and being unaccustomed
to fight on foot, they began to retreat before the fierce
assault of the Rutulians. At this sight their brave young
leader was overwhelmed with shame and mortification.
" Whither," he cried, " my fellow countrymen, do you
fly? I implore you, by the memory, of your gallant
deeds in the past, by the name of Evander, the king
you love, by my own hopes of glory, not to flee. Your
way lies through your foes, not from them; with your
swords must you cut a passage where they crowd most
densely. These are not gods who pursue us; they are
mortals, like ourselves, and they are not stronger or
more numerous than we. The ocean hems us in with
an impassable barrier on the one side; the enemy con-
fronts us on the other, and separates us from our friends.
Whether shall we fly into the sea, or force our way toward
the Trojans ? " So saying, he turned, and dashed into
the midst of the hostile ranks. Tagus was the first
who fell a victim to his noble wrath; for as he was
stooping to pick up a heavy stone, the spear of Pallas
struck him in the middle of the back, and shattered
the spine and ribs. As the young hero was withdraw-
ing the weapon, Hisbon rushed on and struck at him
from above; but the blow fell short, and before he
could recover his guard Pallas buried his sword deep
in his body. Warrior after warrior he struck down,
restored the confidence of his followers, and spread
confusion * and dismay in the opposite ranks, raging

467

THE WANDERINGS OF .ENEAS

among them as the flames lit by the husbandman in
the autumn spread through the stubble, and destroy
everything in their path. But now the Auruncian chief,
Halaesus, summoned by some of his followers to their
aid, opposed the advance of the Arcadians. He was
a tried and fierce warrior, and he slew five of the
bravest of Pallas's men before the young chief could
confront him. Then, however, the son of Evander
hurled a spear with such skill and certainty of aim
that he pierced Halsesus's heart, and the grim leader of
the Aurunci sank lifeless on the field. His fall was a
sore discouragement to the troops of Turnus, which
would have sought safety in flight, had not Lausus,
the gallant son of Mezentius, — noble and upright
offspring of an unworthy father, — suddenly come to
their aid. First encountering Abas, leader of the Popu-
lonians, he slew him with a single blow of his sword,
and followed up his success with a furious slaughter
of Arcadians and Etrurians. Thus the battle continued:
on the one side Pallas impetuously urged the attack ; on
the other Lausus not less obstinately maintained the
defense. They were equal in years, and in beauty and
grace of form ; and to both alike the Fates had assigned
a place among the victims of the war. But the Gods
had ordained that they should not encounter hand to
hand; each was destined to succumb to a superior foe.

Turnus was leading his troops in another quarter of
the field, when he was summoned to hasten to the
assistance of Lausus, who alone was bearing up the
battle againt Pallas and his Arcadians. Quickly he
turned his chariot in that direction, and as st>on as he

468

BATTLE WITH THE LATINS

reached the spot, called on his warriors to withdraw
from the conflict. "I alone," he said, "will encounter
Pallas; to me his life is given. Would to Heaven his
father were here to witness our combat." The Rutu-
lians obeyed the command of their king, and fell back;
while Pallas, amazed at their retreat and the sudden
appearance of Turnus, gazed on his opponent. Then,
in reply to his vaunting speech, he said, "Now, either
by carrying off thy spoils or by a noble death at thy
hands, I shall be rendered famous. My sire knows how
to bear either extremity of fortune. Cease thy threaten -
ings and let us engage." As he spoke, the hearts of the
Arcadians, who loved him, were filled with fear and
sorrow. Turnus sprang from his chariot, and came
forward to the encounter on foot, advancing as a lion
bounds toward his prey. As soon as Pallas thought
him within reach of his spear, he prepared to throw it,
and uttered this prayer to Hercules: 'By my father's
hospitality, and that abode which thou, his guest,
didst visit, O Alcides, aid, I implore thee, my arduous
attempt. May the dying eyes of Turnus behold me
strip him, expiring, of his bloody armor, and endure the
sight of a victorious foe." Hercules, from his place
on Olympus, heard the prayer, and knowing that the
decree of Fate was otherwise, answered with heavy
groans and unavailing tears. These were not unseen
by Jupiter, who strove to console his immortal son.
"To every one," he said, "his day is fixed; a short and
irretrievable term of life is given to all; but to lengthen
out fame by heroic deeds is the best that man can do.
Under the lofty walls of Troy many sons of gods them-

469

THE WANDERINGS OF

selves perished, -- among them the heroic Sarpedon,
my own offspring, perished; Turnus, too, is summoned
by the Fates, and has nearly reached his term of life."
He spoke, and turned away his gaze from the battle-
field, himself pitying the untimely death of Pallas.

And now the brave son of Evander with his utmost
force hurled his spear, and then hastened to draw his
sword from its scabbard. The weapon struck Turnus
where the shoulder was protected by the corselet,
and piercing through the solid brass, slightly grazed
the hero's body. Then Turnus, poising a steel-tipped
javelin, darted it at Pallas, exclaiming, "See whether
mine be not the more penetrating shaft." Cast with
irresistible might, it tore its way through the youth's
shield, composed though it was of thick plates of brass
and iron, and through his cuirass, and inflicted a ghastly
wound in his breast. In vain he wrenched out the
deadly missile from his body; even as he withdrew it
life deserted his quivering form, and he fell to the
ground. Bestriding the corpse, Turnus cried, "Ye
Arcadians, faithfully report to Evander this message,
- 1 send him back his Pallas in such a plight as he
deserved. Whatever honor is in a tomb, whatever
solace in the performance of funeral rites, I freely
grant him. His league with the Trojan intruder shall
cost him dear." So saying, he pressed his foot on the
body, and tore away a massive belt, adorned with figures
richly carved in gold. This spoil Turnus exultingly
clasped around his own body, little dreaming that the
time would come when he would wish that he had never
taken it, and that he and Pallas had never met. But

470

BATTLE WITH THE LATINS

now the lifeless corpse of the youth, stripped of its
arms and still bleeding from the fatal wound inflicted
by the Rutulian chief, was laid on a shield and borne
away by his weeping followers. Thus the first day on
which he took a part in war saw also the young hero's
death, though not, indeed, before he had strewn the
plain with Rutulian corpses.

Speedily the news of this sad disaster, and of the con-
sequent retreat of his forces in that part of the field,
was borne to ^Eneas. Rendered furious by the event,
he impetuously mowed with his sword a bloody passage
through the hostile ranks in search of Turnus, on whom
he was eager to avenge the death of his friend. The
thought of the bright youth who had thus perished in
his cause, of the hoary father bereaved of all that made
life dear to him, filled his heart with sorrow as he re-
called the kindness which both had shown to him, and
the pledges of enduring friendship he had exchanged
with them. Eight Rutulian warriors he struck down,
and captured them alive, destining them as victims to
be offered to the shade of Pallas, and to drench with
their blood the flames of the hero's funeral pyre. Next,
^Eneas having hurled a javelin at a Latian named Ma-
gus, the trembling wretch evaded the dart by stooping,
and as ^Eneas rushed upon him with uplifted sword, he
clasped his knees, and implored him to spare his life,
proffering a large ransom of silver and gold which lay
concealed underground in his house. Sternly the Trojan
chief bade him keep his treasures for his sons; as for
showing mercy, that was forbidden to him from the
moment that Pallas fell by the hand of Turnus. Then

471

THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

grasping the suppliant's helmet, and forcing back his
head so as to expose the neck, even as Magus renewed
his petition he plunged the sword into his body to the
hilt. Near by, the luckless /Emonides, a priest of Apollo
and Diana, who wore a sacred fillet on his temples
and shone in burnished armor, fell a victim to his re-
lentless spear, and the splendid arms he had worn were
carried off by Serestus as an offering to Mars. The
Rutulians fled in terror before the raging chief; but
King Cseculus of Prseneste, and TJmbro, the leader of
the Marsians, renewed the struggle. A huge warrior
named Tarquitus, the son of the nymph Dryope, dared
to oppose himself to ^Eneas, but his fate was soon de-
cided. The hero first pierced his corselet with a spear,
and then, as he lay wounded and imploring mercy,
smote off his head with his sword. Spurning the bleed-
ing trunk, he furiously cried, "Lie there, haughty cham-
pion! Thee no tender mother shall lodge in the earth,
or place a tomb above thy body; to birds of prey thou
shalt be left, or cast in the sea to be devoured by fishes."
Still insatiable of slaughter, he drove into terrified
flight Antaeus and Lycas, two of Turnus's bravest fol-
lowers. But now the fierce Lucagus approached in a
chariot drawn by two snow-white coursers. These were
guided by his brother Liger, while he himself flourished
his sword in the air, and prepared to encounter ^Eneas,
who on his part rushed forward to meet them. 'These,"
cried Liger, "are not the steeds of Diomedes, nor this
the plain of Troy. Here an end shall be put at once to thy
life and to the war." Against these insults yEneas pre-
pared to give an answer otherwise than in words, and as

472

BATTLE WITH THE LATINS

Lucagus bent forward in readiness for the fight, the
Trojan javelin whizzed through the rim of his shield,
smote him in the groin, and hurled him, quivering
in the pangs of death, out of the chariot. ^Eneas as-
sailed his dying ears with a bitter scoff: "It is not,
O Lucagus, the slowness of thy steeds in flight that
hath lost thee thy chariot, but thou thyself, springing
from thy seat, hast abandoned it." So saying, he seized
the chariot; and now the miserable Liger, extending
his hands in supplication, begged for his life. "It was
not in this fashion that thou spokest a little while since,"
replied the relentless hero. 'It would not be fitting
that thou shouldst desert thy brother. Die, therefore,
and attend him to the shades." With that he thrust the
avenging sword through his heart, whence the trembling
soul fled with a shriek.

So ^Eneas spread havoc amid the hostile ranks, and
drove the forces of Turnus back in headlong rout, so
that Ascanius and those who had hitherto been shut
up in the fortifications were able to issue forth into the
field. Meanwhile Jupiter, watching from Olympus
the fortunes of the day, accosted his consort. "Thou
art in the right, my cherished queen, in alleging that
Venus gives her aid to the Trojans; for without divine
aid, how would it be possible for any mortal to achieve
such deeds as ^Eneas is now accomplishing?" "Why,"
submissively answered Juno, "dost thou tease me,
who am already oppressed with anguish for the fate
of the people I befriend ? Had I that share in your love
which I once enjoyed, and which it is fitting for me to
possess, thou surely couldst not refuse me this much,

473

THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

that I might have permission to rescue Turnus from
the fate that threatens him, and restore him safe to his
father Daunus. But since that cannot be, let him die,
and glut the vengeance of the Trojan with his blood;
yet his origin is divine, and often has he piled thy altars
with sacrifices." Not unmoved, the ruler of the Gods
replied, "If you plead for a respite from immediate
death, and a little breathing-time for the youth, I
grant you to bear him from the field, and for a short
time to preserve him. So far I will indulge you; but
if you hope to gain any greater favor, and imagine
that the whole predetermined course of the war is to
be altered at your entreaty, you delude yourself with
empty hopes." With tears Juno responded, "What
if thou shouldst grant in thy heart what in words thou
dost refuse, and continue the life of Turnus for its
natural duration ? I fear much that a speedy end
awaits the brave youth; but oh! I pray that I may
be misled by groundless alarms, and that thou, to
whom all power belongs, may alter thy purpose for
the better."

Not daring to say more, the queen of heaven hastily
descended from Olympus towards the contending
armies. Then she devised an airy phantom, wearing
armor which exactly resembled that of ^Eneas, and
imitating to the life his walk and mien. This shadow
she caused to flutter in the forefront of the battle, full
in the view of Turnus, and to provoke him with darts
and insolent words. The enraged Rutulian eagerly
pressed upon it, and from a distance hurled against
it a spear. Immediately the spectre, wheeling about,

474

BATTLE WITH THE LATINS

took to flight. Turnus, imagining that in very truth
it was the Trojan chief who feared to meet him, and
filled with baseless exultation, cried out, "^Eneas,
whither dost thou fly? Desert not thus thy promised
bride; with this right hand will I bestow upon thee
the settled abode thou hast sought in vain through
so many lands and seas." Thus vociferating, he madly
pursued the deceitful phantom. It chanced that near
the shore there lay a vessel, joined to the land by a tem-
porary bridge of planks. Hither Juno led the shadow,
and caused it in seeming fear to leap on board and
throw itself into a hiding-place. With not less speed
Turnus followed, bounded along the bridge, and
mounted to the lofty prow of the ship in search of the
supposed fugitive. Instantly the goddess severed the
cable, and drove the vessel over the foaming waves.
Then the phantom melted into the air, and the Rutu-
lian, utterly bewildered, gazed about him in despair,
nor did he feel at all thankful to the guardian deity
for having thus preserved him from the arms of ^Eneas.
"Almighty Father," he cried, raising his eyes and
hands towards heaven, :'why dost thou think me
worthy of such shame as this ? What have I done to
merit such a punishment ? whither am I borne ? How
shall I venture again to enter the walls of Laurentum
or look upon my camp ? What will be said of me by
the warriors who have followed me into this war, and
whom - - unutterable shame ! - - I have abandoned to
the bloodthirsty Trojans! O winds! take pity on me,
I entreat you; dash this vessel on some rugged crag,
and overwhelm, me so that I can no longer be con-

475

THE WANDERINGS OF .ENEAS

scious either of my humiliation or of the reproaches
of my Rutulians." While he thus lamented, he was un-
certain whether he should put an end to his own life with
his sword or plunge into the sea and endeavor to regain
the land by swimming. Three times he attempted
each expedient, and as often Juno, full of pity, restrained
him. Carried along by a favorable wind, the ship bore
him safely to the capital of his father, King Daunus.

Meanwhile ^Eneas raged through the battle-field
in search of the victim whom the queen of the Gods
had thus snatched from his conquering hands. Under
his leadership the Trojans and their allies, flushed
with success, pressed more eagerly on their discomfited
foe; but Mezentius now advanced to restore the courage
of the Rutulians. The Etrurians, as soon as they saw
their expelled monarch, out of hostility to whom they
had engaged in the war, rushed upon him with shouts
of rage; but he, as fearless as he was wicked, stood as
firmly against them as a great rock on the shore meets
all the fury of the winds and waves. Three warriors
he overthrew in quick succession : Hebrus he cut down
with his sword, Latagus he slew by hurling a great
stone which battered in his face, and at Palmus he
threw a javelin which pierced his thigh and extended
him helpless on the ground. Then the raging king
slew Evas the Phrygian, and a Trojan named Mimas,
who in former days had been the companion of Paris,
having been born in Troy on the same night that gave
to the light the ill-starred son of Priam. Paris now lay
in eternal repose amid the ruins of his native city, while
to Mimas the sword of Mezentius assigned an un-

476

BATTLE WITH THE LATINS

known grave on the distant shore of Italy. And just
as when an old wild boar, chased from his retreat
amid the wooded Alps, stands at bay among the under-
wood, and the hunters, afraid to approach him, ply
him with darts from a distance, while he gnashes his
tusks with rage and faces them undaunted, so stood
Mezentius; while his former subjects, though filled
with just anger against him, and eager for his destruc-
tion, dare not come within reach of his dreaded sword,
but galled him with spears and useless clamor. It
chanced that a Greek from Corytus, named Acron,
presented himself in the front, conspicuous in nodding
plumes, and in purple trappings that had been worked
for him by his betrothed wife. His gay attire caught
the eye of Mezentius, who rushed forward and smote
down the luckless Greek; then, as the others fell back,
he cut off the retreat of an Etrurian chief, Orodes,
forced him to engage hand to hand, and speedily slew
him. Pressing his foot on the expiring warrior to draw
out his lance from his body, Mezentius cried to his fol-
lowers, "Behold, friends! Orodes has fallen - -not the
meanest of our foes." The Rutulians raised a joyful
shout, but the dying Orodes faintly answered, "Not
. long shalt thou rejoice with impunity over me; a sim-
ilar fate awaits thyself, and soon shalt thou also be
stretched lifeless on this same field." Smiling scornfully,
Mezentius returned, "Die thou, and leave my fate to
the Gods, in whose hands it rests." His example in-
spired other of the Rutulians; they pressed fiercely
forward and drove back the troops of JEneas. Mezen-
tius advanced at their head, and as he strode along, the

477

THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

Trojan hero espied him, and hastened towards him. Un-
awed by the prospect of an encounter even with so
terrible a foe, Mezentius stood firm, and poising a huge
spear in his hand, exclaimed, --for he was a contemner
of the Gods, and never offered invocations to them, —
"Now let this right hand and this good dart be my aid;
and then I vow that my son, my dear Lausus, shall
be clad in the bright arms torn from the body of yon
Trojan pirate." With these words he drew the spear.
Sent with a true aim, it struck the shield of ^Eneas,
but glanced from the hardened surface, and turning
aside, pierced the side of Antores, a faithful follower
of Evander, who had come with Pallas to the war.
Thus died Antores, by a weapon never aimed at him,
but he was speedily avenged. J£neas, putting all his
might into the cast, now in his turn hurled his spear.
It tore its way through the triple plates of Mezentius'
shield, through his corselet, and inflicted a severe
wound in his groin, though its force was so far spent
that the injury was not mortal.

Overjoyed at the sight of his enemy's blood, ^Eneas
drew his sword from its sheath, and rushed upon Mezen-
tius, who was as yet bewildered by the blow. When
Lausus saw his father in such peril he sprang forward
and stood before ^Eneas, while Mezentius fell back
among his friends, the Trojan lance still trailing in his
armor. Lausus received the first stroke of ^Eneas' sword
on his buckler, while the Rutulians with loud shouts
applauded him, and poured on the Trojan hero a tem-
pest of darts. Against this he protected himself with
his shield, and meanwhile, pitying the youth and courage

478

BATTLE WITH THE LATINS

of Lausus, spoke to him in words of warning: 'Why
do you thus rush on your own destruction, and attempt
what is beyond your strength? Your filial devotion
blinds you to your danger." But Lausus, resolute
to defend his wounded sire, returned a haughty defi-
ance. Then JEneas could no longer control his wrath;
he exerted all his strength, and thrust his terrible sword
up to the hilt through the body of the youth, who sank
lifeless on the blood-steeped ground. When ^Eneas
saw the comely young warrior stretched dead before
him, his heart was filled with pity. :< Ill-fated youth!"
he cried, " how can I testify my reverence for thy filial
piety and thy undaunted valor? Thou shalt at least
retain those arms which it was thy delight to wear,
and thy body shall be given up unspoiled to thy friends."
With that he summoned the dismayed followers of
Lausus, and with his own hands raised from the ground
the comely body, all disfigured with blood and wounds.
Meantime Mezentius had retreated to the bank of
the Tiber, where he took off his armor, and bathed his
wound with water. While he was thus resting from the
fatigues of the battle, he was full of anxiety for his
son, and sent messenger after messenger to recall him
from the fight. But too soon a crowd of weeping war-
riors appeared, carrying the corpse of Lausus in their
arms. The sorrowing father divined what had occurred
from their lamentations, even before the body was
brought to him. He threw dust upon his head, he clasped
the loved form in his arms, and bedewed the pallid face
with his tears. "O my son," he exclaimed, "was I pos-
sessed with such a fond desire of life as to suffer thee to

479

THE WANDERINGS OF .ENEAS

offer thyself in my place to the relentless foe ? Am I pre-
served at the cost of these cruel wounds ? Now, indeed,
I feel the calamity of "exile. My crimes have cost thee
not only thy paternal throne and sceptre, but thy life
also. It was I that owed expiation to my country, and
should have satisfied my people by a deserved death.
And yet I live! yet I do not quit the detested light!
but I will quickly follow thee." Then he rose up, and
though crippled by the wound in his thigh, and suffer-
ing anguish from its smart, he did not flinch, but ordered
his attendants to bring his courser. This was a horse
famous for its speed and its prompt obedience to the
rein. When it was brought, he accosted it: 'Long
have we lived together, Rhcebus, and many great deeds
have we accomplished. To-day we shall either bear
away the head of ^Eneas and his arms all spattered
with his blood, or we shall perish together; for I am
assured that thou wilt never condescend to bear a
Trojan lord." Then mounting the noble steed, he
filled both hands with darts, and dashed recklessly
into the midst of the battle. His heart swelling with
rage and shame and grief, he thrice loudly summoned
JSneas to the combat. ^Eneas heard, and rejoiced at
the challenge; and with threatening spear advanced
to meet his foe. "Barbarous wretch," cried Mezen-
tius, "thinkest thou to affright me with thy weapons,
now that thou hast robbed me of my son ? That was
the only means by which thou couldst destroy me. I
fear neither death nor the anger of any of your gods.
Forbear threats; now am I come hither to die, but first
I bring you these gifts." So saying, he rapidly hurled

480

BATTLE WITH THE LATINS

one dart after another at the hero, whirling swiftly
round him on his horse; but the shield framed by
Vulcan's hands received all the shafts and repelled them.
Wearied at last of so unequal a fight, in which he had
to endure ceaseless attacks without striking a blow,
^Eneas stepped forward, and hurled his spear against
the charger, piercing its skull betwixt the ears. The
fiery horse reared upward in the death agony, and then
fell backward upon his rider, pressing him to the
earth. The spectators of this fierce combat uplifted
their voices in shouts, some in joy and others in sorrow,
as ^Eneas rushed up to the fallen warrior, and lifting
his sword to deal the fatal blow, cried, "Where is
now the stern Mezentius ?" The Etrurian, on the other
hand, replied, "Spiteful foe, why dost thou threaten
and insult before thou strikest? Thou wilt do me no
wrong in slaying me. I sought thee expecting nothing
else, and neither I nor my son has asked mercy at
thy hands. One favor alone I implore of thee, that thou
wilt give burial to my corpse. I know well that the
hate of my former subjects would pursue me after
death. Defend my remains, I entreat, from outrage,
and grant me a grave along with my son." He said
no more, but extended his throat to receive the fatal
blow, which descended and drew forth his life as the
blood poured over his armor.

The shades of night were now gathering, and as the
Rutulians and Latins had quitted the field in confu-
sion, the conflicts of that sanguinary day were at last
ended.

AENEAS FINALLY CONQUERS THE

LATINS

By Alfred J. Church

PRINCE TURNUS was filled with rage. Even as
a lion which a hunter hath wounded breaketh
the arrow wherewith he hath been stricken, and rouseth
himself to battle, shaking his mane and roaring, so
Turnus arose. And first he spake to King Latinus,
saying, "I will meet this man face to face, and slay
him while ye look on ; or, if the Gods will that he van-
quish me so, he shall rule over you, and have Lavinia
to wife."

But King Latinus made answer, "Yet think awhile,
my son. Thou hast the kingdom of thy father Daunus;
and there are other noble virgins in Latium whom
thou mayest have to wife. Wilt thou not then be con-
tent ? For to give my daughter to any husband of this
nation I was forbidden, as thou knowest. Yet did I
disobey, being moved by love of thee, my wife also be-
seeching me with many tears. Thou seest what troubles
I and my people, and thou more than all, have suffered
from that time. Twice have we fled in the battle, and
now the city only is left to us. If I must yield me to these
men, let me yield whilst thou art yet alive. For what
doth it profit me that thou shouldst die ? Nay, but all
men would cry shame on me if I gave thee to death!"

482

CONQUEST OF THE LATINS

Now for a space Turnus spake not for wrath. Then
he said, "Be not troubled for me, my father. For I,
too, can smite with the spear; and as for this vEneas,
his mother will not be at hand to snatch him in a cloud
from my sight."

Then Amata cried to him, saying, ''' Fight not, I
beseech thee, with these men of Troy, my son; for
surely what thou sufferest I also shall suffer. Nor will
I live to see ^Eneas my son-in-law."

And Lavinia heard the voice of her mother, and wept.
As a man stains ivory with crimson, or as roses are
seen mixed with lilies, even so the virgin's face burned
with crimson. And Turnus, regarding her, loved her
exceedingly, and made answer, "Trouble me not with
tears or idle words, my mother, for to this battle I
must go. And do thou, Idmon the herald, say to the
Phrygian king, 'To-morrow, when the sun shall rise,
let the people have peace, but we two will fight together.
And let him that prevaileth have Lavinia to wife.':

Then first he went to the stalls of his horses. The
wife of the North Wind gave them to Pjlumnus. Whiter
than snow were they, and swifter than the wind. Then
he put the coat of mail about his shoulders, and fitted
a helmet on his head, and took the great sword which
Vulcan had made for Daunus his father, and had dipped
it when it was white-hot in the river of Styx. His
spear also he took where it stood against a pillar, saying,
"Serve me well, my spear, that hast never failed me
before, that I may lay low this womanish robber of
Phrygia, and soil with dust his curled and perfumed
hair."

483

THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

The next day the men of Italy and the men of Troy
measured out a space for the battle. And in the midst
they builded an altar of turf. And the two armies sat
on the one side and on the other, having fixed their
spears in the earth and laid down their shields. Also
the women and the old men stood on the towers and
roofs of the city, that they might see the fight.

But Queen Juno spake to Juturna, the sister of
Turnus, saying, "Seest thou how these two are now
about to fight, face to face ? And indeed Turnus goeth
to his death. As for me, I endure not to look upon this
covenant or this battle. But if thou canst do aught
for thy brother, lo! the time is at hand." And when
the nymph wept and beat her breast, Juno said, "This
is no time for tears. Save thy brother, if thou canst,
from death; or cause that they break this covenant."

After this came the kings, that they might make the
covenant together. And King Latinus rode in a chariot
with four horses, and he had on his head a crown with
twelve rays of gold, for he was of the race of the sun;
and Turnus came in a chariot with two white horses,
having a javelin in either hand ; and ^Eneas had donned
the arms which Vulcan had made, and with him was
the young lulus. And after due offering ^Eneas sware,
calling on all the Gods, "If the victory shall fall this
day to Turnus, the men of Troy shall depart to the
city of Evander, nor trouble this land any more. But
if it fall to me, I will not that the Latins should serve
the men of Troy. Let the nations be equal one with
the other. The gods that I bring we will worship to-
gether, but King Latinus shall reign as before. A new

484

CONQUEST OF THE LATINS

city shall the men of Troy build for me, and Lavinia
shall call it after her own name."

Then King Latinus sware, calling on the gods that
are above and the gods that are below, saying, "This
covenant shall stand forever, whatsoever may befall.
As sure as this sceptre which I bear - - once it was a tree,
but a cunning workman closed it in bronze, to be the
glory of the Latian kings - - shall never again bear twig
or leaf, so surely shall this covenant be kept."

But the thing pleased not the Latins; for before,
indeed, they judged that the battle would not be equal
between two; and now were they the more assured,
seeing them when they came together, and that Turnus
walked with eyes cast to the ground, and was pale and
wan. Wherefore there arose a murmuring among the
people, which when Juturna perceived, she took upon
herself the likeness of Camertus, who was a prince and
a great warrior among them, and passed through the
host saying, "Are ye not ashamed, men of Italy, that
one man should do battle for you all ? For count these
men; surely they are scarce one against two. And if
he be vanquished, what shame for you! As for him,
indeed, though he die, yet shall his glory reach to the
heavens; but ye shall suffer disgrace, serving these
strangers forever."

And when she saw that the people were moved, she
gave also a sign from heaven. For lo! an eagle, that
drave a crowd of sea-fowl before him, swooped down
to the water, and caught a great swan; and even while
the Italians looked, the birds that before had fled
turned and pursued the eagle, and drave him before

485

THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

them, so that he dropped the swan and fled away.
Which thing when the Italians perceived they shouted,
and made them ready for battle. And the augur Tolum-
nius cried, "This is the token that I have looked for.
For this eagle is the stranger, and ye are the birds,
which before, indeed, have fled, but shall now make
him to flee."

And he ran forward and cast his spear, smiting a
man of Arcadia below the belt, upon the groin. One
of nine brothers was he, sons of a Tuscan mother, but
their father was a Greek; and they, when they saw him
slain, caught swords and spears, and ran forward.
And straightway the battle was begun. First they
brake down the altars, that they might take firebrands
therefrom; and King Latinus fled from the place.
Then did Messapus drive his horses against King
Aulestes of Mantua, who, being fain to fly, stumbled
upon the altar and fell headlong on the ground. And
Messapus smote him with a spear that was like a
weaver's beam, saying, "This, of a truth, is a worthier
victim." After this Coryneus, the Arcadian, when
Ebysus would have smitten him, snatched a brand
from the altar and set fire to the beard of the man,
and, before he came to himself, caught him by the hair,
and thrusting him to the ground, so slew him. And
when Podalirius pursued Alsus the shepherd, and now
held his sword over him ready to strike, the other
turned, and with a battle-axe cleft the man's head
from forehead to chin.

But all the while the righteous JEneas, having his
head bare, and holding neither spear nor sword, cried

486

CONQUEST OF THE LATINS

to the people, "What seek ye? what madness is this?
The covenant is established, and I only have the right
to do battle." But even while he spake an arrow smote
him, wounding him. But who let it fly no man knoweth;
for who, of a truth, would boast that he had wounded
JEneas ? And he departed from the battle.

Now when Turnus saw that ^Eneas had departed
from the battle he called for his chariot. And when
he had mounted thereon he drave it through the host
of the enemy, slaying many valiant heroes, as Sthene-
lus and Pholus, and the two sons of Imbrasus the
Lycian, Glaucus and Lades. Then he saw Eumedes,
son of that Dolon who would have spied out the camp
of the Greeks, asking as his reward the horses of
Achilles (but Diomed slew him). Him Turnus smote
with a javelin from afar, and, when he fell, came near
and put his foot upon him, and taking his sword drave
it into his neck, saying, "Lo! now thou hast the land
which thou soughtest. Lie there and measure out Italy
for thyself." Many others he slew, for the army fled
before him. Yet did one man, Phegeus by name, stand
against him, and would have stayed the chariot, clutch-
ing the bridles of the horses in his hand. But as he
clung to the yoke and was dragged along, Turnus
broke his cuirass with his spear, and wounded him.
And when the man set his shield before him, and made
at Turnus with his sword, the wheels dashed him to the
ground, and Turnus struck him between the helmet
and the breastplate and smote off his head.

But in the meanwhile Mnestheus and Achates and
lulus led ^Eneas to the camp, leaning on his spear.

487

THE WANDERINGS OF .ENEAS

Very wroth was he, and strove to draw forth the arrow.
And when he could not, he commanded that they should
open the wound with the knife, and so send him back
to the battle. lapis also, the physician, ministered to
him. Now this lapis was dearer than all other men
to Apollo, and when the god would have given him all
his arts, even prophecy and music and archery, he
chose rather to know the virtues of herbs and the art
of healing, that so he might prolong the life of his father,
who was even ready to die. This lapis, then, having
his garments girt about him in healer's fashion, would
have drawn forth the arrow with the pincers, but could
not. And while he strove, the battle came nearer, and
the sky was hidden by clouds of dust, and javelins
fell thick into the camp. But when Venus saw how
grievously her son was troubled, she brought from Ida,
which is a mountain of Crete, the herb dittany. A hairy
stalk it hath and a purple flower. The wild goats know
it well if so be that they have been wounded by arrows.
This, then, Venus, having hidden her face, brought
and dipped into the water, and sprinkled there with
ambrosia and sweet-smelling panacea.

And lapis, unawares, applied the water that had been
healed ; and lo ! the pain was stayed and the blood was
staunched and the arrow came forth, though no man
drew it, and ^Eneas's strength came back to him as be-
fore. Then said lapis, "Art of mine hath not healed
thee, my son. The Gods call thee to thy work." Then
did ^Eneas arm himself again, and when he had kissed
lulus and bidden him farewell, he went forth to the
battle. And all the chiefs went with him, and the men

488

CONQUEST OF THE LATINS

nf Troy took courage and drave back the Latins. Then
befell a great slaughter, for Gyas slew Ufens, who was
the leader of the ^Equians; also Tolumnius, the great
augur, was slain, who had first broken the covenant,
slaying a man with his spear. But ^Eneas deigned not to
turn his hand against any man, seeking only for Turnus,
that he might fight with him. But when the nymph
Juturna perceived this she was sore afraid. Therefore
she came near to the chariot of her brother, and thrust
out Metiscus, his charioteer, where he held the reins,
and herself stood in his room, having made herself
like to him in shape and voice. Then as a swallow
flies through the halls and arcades of some rich man's
house, seeking food for its young, so Juturna drave
the chariot of her brother hither and thither. And ever
^Eneas followed behind, and called to him that he
should stay; but whenever he espied the man, and
would have overtaken him by running, then again did
Juturna turn the horses about and flee. And as he
sped Messapus cast a spear at him. But ^Eneas saw
it coming, and put his shield over him, resting on his
knee. Yet did the spear smite him on the helmet-top
and shear off the crest. Then indeed was his wrath
kindled, and he rushed into the army of the enemy,
slaying many as he went.

Then was there a great slaughter made on this side
and on that. But after a while Venus put it into the
heart of ^Eneas that he should lead his army against
the city. Therefore he called together the chiefs, and,
standing in the midst of them on a mound, spake,
saying, "Hearken now to my words, and delay not

489/

THE WANDERINGS OF

to fulfill them, for of a truth Jupiter is on our side. I
am purposed this day to lay this city of Latinus even
with the ground, if they still refuse to obey. For why
should I wait for Turnus till it please him to meet me
in battle?"

Then did the whole array make for the walls of the
city. And some carried firebrands, and some scaling-
ladders, and some slew the warders at the gates, and
cast javelins at them who stood on the walls. And then
there arose a great strife in the city, for some would
have opened the gates that the men of Troy might enter,
and others made haste to defend the walls. Hither and
thither did they run with much tumult, even as bees in
a hive in a rock which a shepherd hath filled with smoke,
having first shut all the doors thereof.

Then also did other ill fortune befall the Latins, for
when Queen Amata saw from the roof of the palace
that the enemy were come near to the walls, and saw
not anywhere the army of the Latins, she supposed
Turnus to have fallen in the battle. Whereupon, cry-
ing out that she was the cause of all these woes, she made
a noose of the purple garment wherewith she was clad,
and hanged herself from a beam of the roof. Then did
lamentation go through the city, for the women wailed
and tore their hair, and King Latinus rent his clothes
and threw dust upon his head.

But the cry that went up from the city came to the
ears of Turnus where he fought in the farthest part
of the plain. And he caught the reins and said, "What
meaneth this sound of trouble and wailing that I hear ?"
And the false Metiscus, who was in truth his sister,

490

CONQUEST OF THE LATINS

made answer, 'Let us fight, O Turnus, here where
the Gods give us victory. There are enough to defend
the city." But Turnus spake, saying, "Nay, my sister,
for who thou art I have known even from the begin-
ning ; it must not be so. Why earnest thou down from
heaven ? Was it to see thy brother die ? And now what
shall I do ? Have I not seen Murranus die, and Ufens
the ^Equian ? And shall I suffer this city to be destroyed ?
Shall this land see Turnus flee before his enemies ? Be
ye kind to me, O gods of the dead, seeing that the gods
of heaven hate me. I come down to you a righteous
spirit, and not unworthy of my fathers."

And even as he spake came Saces, riding on a horse
that was covered with foam, and on his face was the
wound of an arrow. And he cried, "O Turnus, our
last hopes are in thee. For ^Eneas is about to destroy
the city, and the firebrands are cast upon the roofs. And
King Latinus is sore tried with doubt, and the Queen
hath laid hands upon herself and is dead. And now
only Messapus and Atinas maintain the battle, and
the fight grows fierce around them, whilst thou drivest
thy chariot about these empty fields."

Then for a while Turnus stood speechless, and
shame and grief and madness were in his soul; and
he looked to the city, and lo ! the fire went up even to the
top of the tower which he himself had builded upon
the walls to be a defense against the enemy. And
when he saw it, he cried, "It is enough, my sister; I
go whither the Gods call me. I will meet with ^Eneas
face to face, and endure my doom."

And as he spake he leapt down from his chariot,

491

THE WANDERINGS OF .ENEAS

and ran across the plain till he came near to the city,
even where the blood was deepest upon the earth, and
the arrows were thickest in the air. And he beckoned
with the hand and called to the Italians, saying, "Stay
now your arrows. I am come to fight this battle for
you all." And when they heard it they left a space
in the midst. ^Eneas also, when he heard the name
of Turnus, left attacking the city, and came to meet
him, mighty as Athos, or Eryx, or Father Apenninus,
that raiseth his snowy head to the heavens. And the
men of Troy and the Latins and King Latinus marveled
to see them meet, so mighty they were.

First they cast their spears at each other, and then
ran together, and their shields struck one against the
other with a crash that went up to the sky. And Jupi-
ter held the balance in heaven, weighing their doom.
Then Turnus, rising to the stroke, smote fiercely with
his sword. And the men of Troy and the Latins cried
out when they saw him strike. But the treacherous
sword brake in the blow. And when he saw the empty
hilt in his hand he turned to flee. They say that when
he mounted his chariot that day to enter the battle,
not heeding the matter in his haste, he left his father's
sword behind him, and took the sword of Metiscus,
which, indeed, served him well while the men of Troy
fled before him, but brake, even as ice breaks, when
it came to the shield which Vulcan had made. There-
upon Turnus fled, and .Eneas, though the wound which
the arrow had made hindered him, pursued. Even
as a hound follows a stag that is penned within some
narrow space, for the beast flees hither and thither,

492

CONQUEST OF THE LATINS

and the staunch Umbrian hound follows close upon
him, and almost holds him, and snaps his teeth, yet
bites him not, so did JEneas follow hard on Turnus.
And still Turnus cried out that some one should give
him his sword, and J^neas threatened that he would
destroy the city if any should help him. Five times about
the space they ran; not for some prize they strove, but
for the life of Turnus. Now there stood in the plain
the stump of a wild olive-tree. The tree was sacred
to Faunus, but the men of Troy had cut it, and the
stump only was left. Herein the spear of ^Eneas was
fixed, and now he would have drawn it forth that he
might slay Turnus therewith, seeing that he could not
overtake him by running. Which when Turnus per-
ceived, he cried to Faunus, saying, "O Faunus, if I
have kept holy for thee that which the men of Troy
have profaned, hold fast this spear." And the god
heard him; nor could ^Eneas draw it forth. But while
he strove, Juturna, taking again the form of Metiscus,
ran and gave to Turnus his sword. And Venus, per-
ceiving it, wrenched forth the spear from the stump.
So the two stood again face to face.

Then spake Jupiter to Juno, where she sat in a
cloud watching the battle, 'How long wilt thou fight
against fate ? What purpose hast thou now in thy heart ?
Was it well that Juturna - - for what could she avail
without thy help ? - - should give back to Turnus his
sword ? Thou hast driven the men of Troy over land
and sea, and kindled a dreadful war, and mingled the
song of marriage with mourning. Further thou mayest
not go."

493

THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

And Juno humbly made answer, "This is thy will,
great Father; else had I not sat here, but stood in the
battle smiting the men of Troy. And indeed I spake to
Juturna that she should help her brother; but aught
else I know not. And now I yield. Yet grant me this.
Suffer not that the Latins should be called after the
name of Troy, nor change their speech, nor their
garb. Let Rome rule the world, but let Troy perish
forever."

Then spake with a smile the Maker of all things,
"Truly thou art a daughter of Saturn, so fierce is the
wrath of thy soul. And now what thou prayest I give.
The Italians shall not change name, nor speech, nor
garb. The men of Troy shall mingle with them, and
I will give them a new worship, and call them all Latins.
Nor shall any race pay thee more honor than they."

Then Jupiter sent a fury from the pit. And she
took the form of a bird, even of an owl that sitteth by
night on the roof of a desolate house, and flew before

o

the face of Turnus and flapped her wings against his
shield. Then was Turnus stricken with great fear,
so that his hair stood up and his tongue clave to the
roof of his mouth. And when Juturna knew the sound
of the false bird what it was, she cried aloud for fear,
and left her brother and fled, hiding herself in the river
of Tiber.

But ^Eneas came on, shaking his spear that was like
unto a tree, and said, "Why delayest thou, O Turnus ?
Why drawest thou back ? Fly now if thou canst through
the air, or hide thyself in the earth." And Turnus made
answer, "I fear not thy threats, but the Gods and Jupi-

494

CONQUEST OF THE LATINS

ter, that are against me this day." And as he spake
he saw a great stone which lay hard by, the landmark
of a field. Scarce could twelve chosen men, such as
men are now, lift it on their shoulders. This he caught
from the earth and cast it at his enemy, running for-
ward as he cast. But he knew not, so troubled was he
in his soul, that he ran or that he cast, for his knees
tottered beneath him and his blood grew cold with
fear. And the stone fell short, nor reached the mark.
Even as in a dream, when dull sleep is on the eyes of
a man, he would fain run but cannot, for his strength
faileth him, neither cometh there any voice when he
would speak; so it fared with Turnus. For he looked
to the Latins and to the city, and saw the dreadful
spear approach, nor knew how he might fly, neither
how he might fight, and could not spy anywhere his
chariot or his sister. And all the while JEneas shook
his spear and waited that his aim should be sure. And
at the last he threw it with all his might. Even as a
whirlwind it flew, and brake through the seven folds of
the shield and pierced the thigh. And Turnus dropped
with his knee bent to the ground. And all the Latins
groaned aloud to see him fall. Then he entreated
^Eneas, saying, "I have deserved my fate. Take thou
that which thou hast won. Yet perchance thou mayest
have pity on the old man, my father, even Daunus,
for such an one was thy father Anchises, and give me
back to my own people, if it be but my body that thou
givest. Yet hast thou conquered, and the Latins have
seen me beg my life of thee, and Lavinia is thine.
Therefore I pray thee, stay now thy wrath."

495

THE WANDERINGS OF AENEAS

Then for a while ^Eneas stood doubting ; aye, and
might have spared the man, when lo! he spied upon
his shoulders the belt of Pallas, whom he had slain.
And his wrath was greatly kindled, and he cried with
a dreadful voice, "Shalt thou who art clothed with
the spoils of my friends escape me ? 'T is Pallas slays
thee with this wound, and takes vengeance on thy ac-
cursed blood." And as he spake he drave the steel
into his breast. And with a groan the wrathful spirit
passed into darkness.

• ••••*••••

According to the old legends ^Eneas wedded the fair
Lavinia, founded his city of Lavinium, and ruled over
it for three years. Then in a battle with the Rutulians,
or some other Italian people, he disappeared; and as
his body was not found after the conflict was over, it
was believed that the Gods had taken him up to heaven.
His son Ascanius peacefully succeeded him, and re-
moved the capital of his kingdom to Alba Longa, which
city again, after the lapse of centuries, gave birth to
mighty Rome.

END OF VOLUME in

CENTRAL CIRCULATION

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